


Origin of Love

by idkmybffspock



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: (mentioned) - Freeform, Alternate Universe - College/University, Bisexual Dennis Reynolds, Canon-Typical Gang Behavior (It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia), College Hockey, Dennis Reynolds Has an Eating Disorder, Drug Use, Fan Art, Gratuitous Use of the Word pussy, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, NSFW Art, Panic Attacks, Smut, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 10:33:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 36,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27969128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idkmybffspock/pseuds/idkmybffspock
Summary: This is a story about Mac accepting himself, marrying the man of his dreams, and owning a bar together. Or, the University Au, student-teacher dating, with a good splash of hockey thrown in there that no one asked for.“Hey, ah, Mr. Reynolds, you mentioned in class that the university doesn’t have a policy about student and teachers dating… And I think we should.”
Relationships: Mac McDonald/Dennis Reynolds
Comments: 30
Kudos: 52





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story started out as fun little snippets inspired by the photos of Jack Griffin and the aspiring medical student from Thirteen Conversations About One Thing. (Young Rob) that morphed into a larger story. 
> 
> It's unbeta'd but has been looked over by a hockey fan. I hope I won't scar any fans of Hockey for life with my attempts at game play. 
> 
> For reference, there's about an eight year difference between the two. Dennis is 28 ( a year younger than season 1 Dennis )
> 
> Edit: If you would like to view the image larger, right click "view Image" and it will bring you to the larger size.

“ **Hey, ah, Mr. Reynolds, you mentioned in class that the university doesn’t have a policy about student and teachers dating… And I think we should**.”

  
Dennis stared at the kid standing in his doorway. Office hours had just started not 5 minutes prior and Dennis could already feel the exhaustion seeping in. Honestly? When he told the class about how arbitrary some of the university regulations were, he was hoping to bang a few sorority girls by the end of term... Not attract hockey players who slept in the back of his class.   
  


"You're not getting an A because you're banging the teacher, buddy."  
  


"Oh, I wasn't planning on it, sir! A C+ would be great though."   
  


"Why would - no! Mr. McDonald if that's all I think it's best that y-"   
  


"Wait! C'mon, man. What happened to that big talk about banging students?"   
  


"I didn't- That wasn't- HmmmM!" 

The two stared at each other in silence willing the other to see reason. Dennis for the life of him couldn't bring himself to kick Mac out, while Mac hoped his face alone would win over his professor. _Those puppy eyes_ the girls would say, got him laid all the time, just with the wrong sort.   
  


To Mac, Mr. Reynolds looked like he knew his way around a beefcake and Mac desperately wanted to learn. This was his first time away from home and away from anyone that knew him, he needed this. He finally felt safe to explore knowing his father was away in prison and wouldn’t step foot on campus, neither would his mother and if they didn’t know, they couldn’t rat him out to god. A score in his books, Mac thought, that had nothing to do with the sports scholarship that got him into PENN State.  
  


"I've seen you with Becky, so you gotta be into anal, Sir. Her strap-on is legend in the dorms" Mac says with all the grace of a babbling fool.  
  


Mr. Reynolds quickly shot out of his chair, pushing Mac further into the room before shutting the office door. "Okay, first off, it went both ways,” Dennis told the wall, “A lot of switching going on there, Bucko"

  
He turned to face Mac as Mac backed into the desk, the edges pushing against his thighs. "So you'll do it?"  
  


"Will I-"  
  


Mac bit down on his bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth. He could tell from the tone of voice that Mr. Reynolds meant it as a question, however suddenly being boxed in by his professor's body said he already knew the answer. Large hands gripped either side of the desk leaving no room to go except backward. Mac scooted himself onto the desk, paying little mind to the stationary that littered the top. The pressure of those items pressing into Mac’s ass couldn’t even distract him from his professor’s gaze.  
  


"You will" Mac licked at his bottom lip, leaving it as an open invitation staring at Mr. Reynold's own. Advice from his father about asserting himself- controlling the situation played in his head as he watched Dennis lean in closer.  
  


There was no room between them, the air was suffocating. Mac felt that pull to stay under until his last breath in Dennis' presence. Blue eyes focused solely on his bruised, moist lip, exactly where he was hoping they’d go. Mac swallowed. His fingers flexed, holding back the desire to grab Mr. Reynolds' waist and yank him closer. Tension thumped in every muscle for him to touch Dennis, get that man between his legs.  
  


Dennis' breath huffed against his check, stubble brushing against Mac's ear. Words were being spoken but all Mac could hear was his heart pounding in his chest. His skin felt hot, mind going blank from the lack of oxygen in the room as Mr. Reynolds’ fingers brushed up against his wrist, teasing him. He could easily slip the button of those jeans loose and tug the zipper down.  
  


"What do you say, Mac?"   
  


Mac’s voice cracked, "Yes, yes, fuck me."   
  


"What?"   
  


"What?" Mac's brain halted to a stop, eyes snapping to Dennis' face. His mouth felt dry, swallowing impossible, making it hard to say more than a word.  
  


Mr. Reynolds pulled back, looking amused, to say the least. Mac's cheeks burned with shame, "Ah." Weren’t they just about to do it. Those old 80’s movies definitely implied that Mac was gonna get banged now.  
  


"Pass tomorrow’s quiz, Mr. McDonald, and we'll talk. I can't give you an A and I certainly won't lower myself to a student who doesn't pass my class." Mac felt, rather than saw, Dennis let go of the table stepping out of the moment.   
  


"But I have practice tonight," Mac whined out at the loss. The dickies he wore definitely felt too tight now that Dennis wasn’t there to distract him.   
  


"You're capable of doing both."   
  


"I don't know…” Deep breath, Mac thought- Charlie’s mom, Poppins never returning, Jennifer in biology, “And you won't give me the answers?" Mac tucked his head down staring at the stain on his pants, kinda looking like a dick- No. Focus.   
  


"Ronald," Mr. Reynolds was corrected with a soft _Mac_ before he was able to continue, "Mac, the answers are in the textbook. The one you brought in"  


"They are?" Mac’s eyes left the penis shaped stain and spotted Introduction to Psych 101 on top of his jacket. He might not be able to follow along with what Dennis was saying but at least his boner was letting up.  
  


"We went over the answers in class..." Dennis prompted Mac, gauging to see how much Mac remembered. Most of Dennis’ Intro students were sports or art majors looking for an easy A and Mac seemed to fit that type.  
  


"We did..." Yeah, Mac didn't recall, for the last hour of class the poor guy was face down on his desk trying to catch up on his beauty sleep, just like each Thursday before hockey games, if Dennis recalled correctly.   
  


"Tell you what, buddy, after practice meet me in class. We'll go over the reading together."   
  


"Really? Sweet, dude!" A huge grin broke the forlorn look on Mac’s face. He jumped off the table, nearly colliding with Dennis, “Just us, huh?” Making sure to grab both his jacket and book, Mac bounced out of the way and toward the door. "You won't regret it!"  
  


Before making it out the door, Mac turned back around, latching onto Dennis' hand and yanking him forward. Dennis, too shocked to move, felt Mac's lips press against his. Yeah, he was going to regret this. 

  
  


\-------------------

Footsteps echoed in the empty hall, the automatic lights flickered on as Dennis headed to his assigned classroom mentally preparing himself for the night. Normally, he would be all for extra attention, the gaggle of praise from freshmen too shy to approach him or the sexually dominant seniors ready for one last wild night but tonight felt off. Maybe skipping breakfast and lunch was messing with his head again or maybe, just maybe, the idea of dating someone finally started to look appealing.   
  


Nah, that wasn’t it. It was definitely the food thing.   
  


Turning the corner, keys in hand, Dennis noticed a slumped figure huddled cross-legged on the floor by the door. Mac, out of uniform and severely lacking a proper shower was pulling loose strings from his jacket sleeve. Lost in thought, he hadn’t noticed Dennis and according to his phone the hockey team still had at least 10 minutes left of practice.   
  


Mac hadn’t noticed the lights flicker back on, after they had turned off when he settled on the floor. It wasn’t until the shadow of Mr. Reynolds obscured the view of his sleeves that Mac looked up. The right side of his face was bruised and his nose looked hastily put back together, Dennis could make a guess as to why their meeting started early.  
  
  
“Rough night?”

  
  
“You could say that.” Mac flinches from the grin he shot Dennis’ way and scrambles up off the floor, only tripping slightly from his untied boots.   
  


There was a huff of laughter as Mr. Reynolds unlocked the classroom letting Mac walk in, the door’s weight shutting it after them. Before Mac could settle, pick a seat, or even set his pack down, the scrapping of metal legs against linoleum brought his attention back to Dennis who had fixed two desks to face each other. Mac stared in confusion, furrowed brow and lips pursed at the scene. Honestly, when Mr. Reynolds suggested they studied together, Mac was led to believe it to be more physical.  
  


“Did you have anyone look at your face?”  
  
  
“We’re not banging?” Mac blurts out successfully cutting off Dennis’ train of thought of nursing the student’s bloody nose.  
  
  
Dennis hummed, astonished at Mac’s bold behavior. Biting the inside of his cheek in desperation to hide his laugh, “Not in the classroom, Mac. Do any of these desks look like they can take our weight?”   
  


“Well, no, but according to **RateMyProfessorXXX** , you’d have me bent over a desk by now.”   
  


Dennis notes genuine confusion in Mac’s voice over the lack of banging, “Wait, there’s a website that rates elicit acts with the professors here?” He counters with his own confusion. He's been working here for years and even as a student he hadn't heard about a sex site for professors, granted it probably didn't exist back then.  
  
  
“You have to look it up by city and school, but yea. There’s like a lot of reviews for you, at first I thought it was about your class assignments really pounding into them.”  
  


Of course Mac, on a sports scholarship, hadn’t put two and two together at first. What did Mac even search to get that page to pop up. Did someone show him? Nothing made sense anymore, why would students just write about their affairs for the internet to read like that.  
  


Stupid.   
  


Savages.

  
“Hold on, do you want to date, or were you looking to bang me because I had a high score on some website?” Dennis peers at Mac trying to understand his motives.

“Actually, dude, your score was pretty low. I don’t think they liked you much.” 

  
\-------------------

  
  


“Said his own name as he climaxed and then called my thesis _derivative.”_ Dennis read out loud brushing his tongue against his teeth and sucking in, “Bullshit. Reviewed by anonymous, score 2 out of 5. I bet you were dry.” Dennis mocked the screen as he hastily scrolled down to read the other thirty-seven reviews on his profile.   
  


Mac sat facing Dennis. Their student desks turned toward each other, one with a laptop and the other with a reluctant student trying to simultaneously pay attention to the flashcards Mr. Reynolds provided as well as the commentary. With every negative review Dennis’ voice would crack higher and higher, something about that amused Mac greatly. 

  
After Mac’s face was inspected for any lasting damage and the snot rag thrown away, Dennis had pulled out his laptop demanding Mac show him the website. Scrolling through the profiles created, they found Mr. Reynolds toward the bottom. _Thank God_ Dennis’ breath tickled against Mac’s ear as he leaned in closer to look at the page. Staring back at them was an old, attractive, photo that someone had uploaded. The bold score just below the image read 3.1 stars (41 reviews) with the top rated comment being, _The devil has blue eyes, don't be fooled - Jessica H._  
  
  
Dennis huffed out in annoyance clicking his tongue in thought, “Jessica, Jessica… Oh I remember Jessica, blonde with huge tits hoping to score an A on the final by sleeping with me. That bitch turned in a blank .pdf file. I failed her ass.”   
  


That was when he took his laptop back and sat across from Mac, the two of them settling in for the impromptu study session.   
  


“There are some good comments too. One guy said he’d take your class again.” Mac offered trying to engage, the silence that fell between them itching at his skin.   
  


“Ah yes, This one? _The guy's kinky as shit, ask him about his tools! Ready for round two within the hour, would recommend getting dicked_.”  
  


Fully invested in the reviews and less on the flashcards, Mac leaned over the desk, "Wait, what are your tools?"   
  


"Mostly bondage rope, ties, there’s other stuff… Hmm kinky guy? Oh, right, I remember him! Brian LeFevre. The guy wrote outstanding papers, really knew his stuff. Passed the class with top marks. He was clearly going somewhere."   
  


"Did he drop out or something?"   
  


"Killed. Stabbed behind some bar in South Philly. Surrounded by warehouses. Who would buy a bar surrounded by factories? Definitely the last stop on any pub crawl. Idiots. Frankly, the owners were goddamn idiots."  
  


Mac was stunned by the bluntness of Mr. Reynolds' words.   
  


Stabbed by a hobo most likely.   
  


“Mac, the cards,” Dennis reminded him, using his hand to gesture down at the multicolored note cards while keeping his eyes trained on his screen already forgetting about their gruesome topic.  
  


“These aren’t helping, why can’t I just take the test tomorrow and hope for the best?” Mac whined sitting back in his chair, picking at the top card. It was pink with Mr. Reynold’s neat penmanship telling Mac all about some guy - Willhelm Wundt.  
  
  
“The last quiz you took scored a fifty-five percent, Mac if you fail another one your grade will drop. Now,” Mr. Reynolds said, clicking the laptop shut. Mac watched as he reached over and took the cards, arranging them by color - pink, blue, yellow and green. “Look over the pink cards and tell me what they have in common.”   
  


“I don’t-”  
  


“C’mon, you got this. Look through them,” Dennis says gently, out of character.   
  


Mac’s cheeks heat at the soft voice compelled to flip through them. Pavlov, Erikson, Maslow… “These sound like names?” Mac questioned, not sure himself, they could be names but they sounded too foreign to be sure.   
  


“Good, they are. People are in pink.”  
  
  
“And the blue ones?” Mac set the pink cards down and picked up the next set, noting that he had Mr. Reynolds’ attention. Alright, studying wasn’t too bad.  
  


“The brain- Serotonin, neurons, neurotransmitters, vocabulary mostly.”   
  


Oh, no, it was bad.  
  


Mac hunched into himself, brows knitted together in frustration, “Those all sound the same- Serotonin, Neuronin, neuro-what-a-what?” The cards are tugged out of Mac’s hands and set off to the side, Mr. Reynolds tapping his finger against the top of the pile clearly distracted, lost in thought. “I can memorize them! I promise,” Mac suggested trying to grab the cards back anxious that Mr. Reynolds disapproved of him.   
  


Dennis slapped his hand down on the pile and slid the stack closer to himself, “Another time- Mac, when you’re playing hockey, how do you remember all the rules?” He led hoping to gain a little more about Mac, who from the surface looked lazy, unmotivated, and dull. Didn’t help much that he was frequently wearing cut-up band tees and sweaters with holes in them giving him the appearance of a delinquent.   
  


“Oh, easy, I hurt someone badly, it’s out. I kept having to go in the penalty box for ten minutes, that’s not fun.”   
  


Mac was unable to look away from Dennis’s calculating gaze. He skin crawled with the need to fidget. He knew he liked the attention, normally, but at the moment he felt like a rat in a maze.  
  
  
“If you remember the rules, you’re rewarded with playing the game?”  
  
  
“I… guess?” Resting against the chair, Mac pulled his arm back, his fingers rubbing together anxiously. “I dunno. That sounds right.” Mac muttered looking around the desk, the closed laptop, to the other stack of cards. He was starting to second guess his plan on pursuing Dennis. His father had taught him to always be the one in control- something he kept failing at around Mr. Reynolds. It started out great, back in the office, but the more time they were together, the more Mac slipped up. He just really wanted Dennis to keep watching him.  
  


“Mac, I’ll date you.”  
  


“What?!” Mac’s eyes snap up, staring at Mr. Reynolds. Hardly able to catch up with this whole conversation, Mac felt like he just ran a mile- mentally. “Dude, you’re not pulling my leg, are you?”  
  


“No, no leg pulling. This is a great opportunity.” Dennis’ grin spread across his face, teeth gleaming under the fluorescent light. “I’m your reward, Mac. I’d guess you have ADHD? Your inability to pay attention to one thing, frequent movement, trouble processing information- Yeah absolutely,” Dennis guessed confidently. “It’s called a reward system- I’m the dopamine for your brain,” Dennis’ words caressed. Those soft words scratched up Mac’s spine leaving his toes tingling, his body buzzing and his dick jumping to attention.   
  


“O-okay” Mac swallowed, nodding his head in agreement. He liked the sound of having Mr. Reynolds as a reward. ADHD sounded familiar, Charlie had it. Hanging out with him all the time since childhood probably meant he had it too. That sounded right.   
  


Dennis continued preening for the rest of his session with Mac. He convinced himself that they weren’t getting together because he caught feelings, no this was instead an experiment, run by him, Dennis Reynolds, and not because Mac’s round eyes or earnestness. 

  
  


\------------

  
  
  
  


Dennis watched as his lunch break evaporated before his eyes as his sister, having recently been to the student café, waltzed into his office. Her enormous hand holding her coffee out like a baton, conducting an orchestra of one. “The Ponderosas are in town, I heard Maureen’s single again,” Dee sing-songed taking up a spot on Dennis’ desk. His things were pushed out of place for the second time that week.   
  


“So?”  
  


“Don’t play coy. You love leading her on. What was it again, worships you like the god you are?”  
  


“I’ve moved on, her silly high school crush is pathetic, Dee. I don’t need her clinging onto me for the next two weeks.” Dennis managed sounding dull staring down at his nails. His thumb brushing off imaginary dust from a knuckle. “I’ve evolved.”  
  


Dee narrowed her eyes, not believing a damn word that came out of his mouth, “Sure. Sure. And it has nothing to do with banging a student?”   
  


It was a wild guess, Dennis knew that, but the caught look that crossed his face couldn’t be stopped. His eyes darted up to hers to make sure that, yea, she noticed. “Shut up. I can hear you.”  
  


“What poor freshman have you groomed this time?”  
  


“Hey! They were all consenting partners.” Dennis stared out of his office, refusing to give Dee more of his time. A few people passed by his door, milling around during the lunch hour. The perfect time to watch people, or more importantly fantasy about them on his time off.  
  
  
“Texting yourself doesn’t count.”  
  


“Don't you have a stage to build?” Dennis cuts, glaring at his sister to leave his office. Her long, gangly body draped over his desk in the most inconvenient way- blocking his view of the hot secretary just outside his door. She hung around during lunch, the only time he got to openly objectify her breasts.   
  


“Shut up,” Dee snips, “it's your fault that I'm a prop hand and not an acting coach.” Dee waved her drink around to prove whatever point she was trying to make. Shaking it in front of Dennis forcing him to pay attention to her and not over her shoulder. It wasn’t like he hadn’t heard her complaints before.   
  


“Noone was going to hire you, you set your roommate on fire.” His voice dripping, feeling the urge to push her away from his things.  
  


“Only a little bit and that was eight years ago, they need to get over it,’ Dee whined, eyes big to emphasize her point. “It wasn't that big of a deal.”  
  


“Dee, You were in the loony bin for two years. Pretty sure that was a big deal, Sis.”  
  


“Yeah well you groom minors.” Dee stated, feeling like she had won the argument. The school should have hired her for teaching. Clearly she was the smarter one and they did hire Dennis, what with all his shady misdemeanors and everything.   
  


“No! No! She said she was eighteen! Not my fault she lied.”  
  


“Whatever. How old is this one?”   
  


Dennis narrowed his eyes as his sister turned to look around the room, bored of their conversation, finishing her drink. He had felt the need to justify himself, clear up that he was not, in fact, dating a minor, no matter how young Mac looked, but at that point it didn’t matter to Dee. Better change the topic, her bony ass was still sitting comfortably on his things, which meant more quality twin time.   
  


“Hey, were you aware there’s a website about banging the professors here?”  
  
  
“You mean Rate My Professor for sex? Yeah, I finally have a profile on that busted site. I’ve been here, what, three years now?” Dee complained, throwing her cup in the waste bin beside her.  
  


“You knew, and didn’t say anything?”  
  
  
“What, and have you lord it over me? Hell no. Besides, I’m now higher rated than you. 3.5 stars, baby!” Dee pumped her fist in victory, sliding off the desk and moving around to view Dennis’ laptop. “Did lover-girl leave you a nasty comment or something?”  
  
  
“No, of course not. We haven’t even-”  
  
  
“Wait, oh lord! You haven’t slept with her yet! Dennis!” She cries, overjoyed that her brother failed to bed someone.  
  


“... He.”   
  


“He? Really branching out this year.” Dee said, sobering up. “So, you’re not interested in banging Maureen Ponderosa because you’re… not sleeping with your student?”  
  


 _Deep breath, Dennis. She’s a goddamn stupid bird_. A vein pulsed against his forehead as Dennis tried to count backwards, willing this whole exchange to end. Dee’s sharp voice rattling in his head, crawling up his skin, judging him.   
  


She stayed quiet for a blissful moment before- “So, this is for real. You're... Dating.”  
  
  
“Of course it’s real, Deandre.” Dennis folds his arms over his chest, protecting himself, as he leaned his chair away from her. “I can date if I want to!” Sure, he wasn’t dating Mac because they like-liked each other but the audacity Dee had when she insinuated he wasn’t capable of dating. That. Bitch.  
  


“Didn’t know you could.”  
  


“You bitch.”  
  


“Cock.”  
  


“I wouldn’t have agreed if I wasn’t serious about it.” That got him the side eye as she began typing something in the web browser.  
  


“What’s his name?”  
  


Reluctantly, Dennis gave in and told her about Mac, his student that kept to the back of the class, who struggled to maintain his C average and boldly propositioned him the day before.  
  


“You said his name is McDonald? A hockey player, right?”  
  
  
Dennis hums in agreement noting that she was searching the college site finding articles about The Lions hockey team.  
  
  
“Not bad.” Dee pressed a long spindly finger against the screen about to tap it with her nail before Dennis snatched her hand away, “Hey!”  
  
  
“Do _not_ ruin my computer with your gigantic talons! Yes, that’s Mac.”  
  
  
With her hand still snatched away, Dee leaned in closer to the screen reading the caption underneath the photo, “Oh Shit! You’re dating Ronald McDonald!” She screeched, cackling as Dennis jerked out of his chair and bodily removed Dee from his office.  
  
  
“Out! Out! That’s it, you goddamn bitch.” Dennis yelled, pushing a laughing Dee out of his office, the people in the hall staring at him while the secretary with the massive tits looked alarmed at the altercation. “It’s fine, she’s my sister. Everything’s good.”  
  


Dee slapped Dennis’ hands away, still in a fit of joy. “You’re dating the burger clown.” She hiccuped with laughter while Dennis’ cheeks burned.   
  


“We should celebrate, you know, like old times.” Dee wiggled her eyebrows, grinning at her brother. They used to celebrate all the time using their dad’s money with Molly, Alice and of course, they’re favorite, Charlie.   
  


Dennis, never one to miss the opportunity had to stop himself from agreeing, “Eer, not tonight. There’s a game.”   
  


“You gonna go see lover-boy?”  
  
  
“Yea, don’t you have some man to turn to stone, you harpy? Get out of here.” Dennis shooed his sister before locking himself away. Office hours were officially canceled. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's game night, baby! The Nittany Lion vs the Yellow Jackets!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is unbeta'd but has been looked over by a hockey fan. I hope I won't scar any fans of Hockey for life with my attempts at game play, especially in this chapter. 
> 
> For reference, there's about an eight year difference between the two. Dennis is 28 ( a year younger than season 1 Dennis ) The year is vague but set around 2012.
> 
> Edit: If you would like to view the image larger, right click "view Image" and it will bring you to the larger size.

  
  


“Hey!” Look out!”  
  


For the second time in as many days, Mac’s face played defense to the puck. Hard, black plastic ricocheted from his cheek, sending him off balance with blood pooling down his face. There was a mix between shouts and laughter from the team, who were split into two groups for their last practice before the game. Mac flung his arms around caught between finding his footing and the ice. Ultimately he lost, the skate slipping from beneath him causing him to crumble to the ice, his hands taking the blunt of the damage as he tried to stop the fall, “Fuck,” he wheezed.   
  


“Dude, what’s wrong with you?” Fellow Winger, Number Twelve questioned skating over to check the damage. There was a sharp pain on the side of Mac’s face, but otherwise the blood made it look worse than it was. Mac knew Number Twelve wasn’t going to bother trying to help him up.  
  


“At least he didn’t wreck his nose again,” The Goalie, Number Eighteen ragged elbowing Twelve in the side.  
  


“Oh shit, yea! All that blood from yesterday.” The boys laughed as Mac helped himself back up staying silent, holding back his anger and the real urge to go after them.   
  


So what, a puck to the face was no big deal! It happened to everyone. They loved to riff about his abilities, jealous that he was recruited from high school and they had to try out, no doubt, Mac thought bitterly rubbing the blood off with his glove. Even after two years of playing on the same team those bitches loved pulling Mac’s dick. It didn’t matter anyways, he could handle a few rogue hits thanks to years of playing with his best friend Charlie. He was there to start fights on the team's behalf.  
  


He was skilled and a badass, a double whammy.   
  


“I bet it’s a gi-rrl that got him all dis-tr-a-ted,” the teammate who had warned him earlier, Number Twenty-Three, sang out, wiggling his eyebrows as another swung his arm around Mac’s shoulders, pulling him in.   
  


“Oh, for sure, What gremlin did you swindle, McDonald?” Star Player Twenty-One, the Center Forward chuckled pulling Mac closer hoping to get a rise out of him. The absolute worst. Twenty-One was the self declared leader, and, well, Captain with his seniority. Mac hated him on most good days. Whenever he wanted to feel straight, he’d just remember the three of them and any boner he had at the gym was gone.  
  


Mac frowned, “Someone gorgeous, duh! Hot as fuck, a ten,” His brows dipped low at the sheer thought he couldn’t bag a hottie. “And super smart,” he muttered as an afterthought. Twenty-One’s grip was tighter than necessary, Mac realized trying to duck under and away.   
  


“I didn’t know you were into intelligent women, Ronnie!”   
  


“It’s Mac, c’mon.”   
  


“Whatever,” Twenty-One shrugged, letting go of Mac with a pat on the back. The player pushed off, skating back to Center Ice as Mac straightened up, “You better get your head out of the gutter and pay attention, the first game of the season is tonight!” There was cheering from the rest of the team as they got back into position.  
  


“McDonald, visitor! Make it fast!” The coach called out from the hallway near the stairs, thumb jerked over his shoulder to indicate someone was just outside the rink. As the coach made his way back to the ice, a chorus of Ooo’s and Aww’s from the others rang out. Mac could hear Twenty-Three ask if it was his girlfriend.  
  


“Don’t worry, Coach, Mac only needs 3 seconds!” Twenty-One laughed.  
  


Face burning, Mac made his way to the edge of the ice pulling off his gloves then his skates. Whatever, he knew he could outlast any of them. He had the stamina, the energy, and now with Dennis- a partner to practice with. Said partner was probably waiting outside. Didn’t he agree to go to the opening game? Maybe he had to cancel, or, maybe he wanted to quit before they even had a chance to start. Shit, that wasn’t good.  
  


“Shit,” Mac chanted in his head as sock clad feet hurried down the hall and pushed his way out the back door. Wind rushed against his bruised face, it was picking up for early October, but thank god it hadn’t started raining. Mac let the door close as he took in the awkward idle his best friend had going on- mid-song, jamming out in his own head waiting for Mac to show up.  
  
  
“Charlie? What are you doing here?” Mac questioned looking around to see if the campus could provide answers. He stepped closer, avoiding the stray gravel, toes flexing anxiously in his socks.   
  


“Hey, buddy,” Charlie’s attention snapped to Mac, a lazy smile indicating he probably had a good fix of glue on the bus ride over. “Asked for the night off, can’t miss your big game.”  
  


“Aren’t you, like, the only janitor that bar has?”  
  


“Yea, well, a mess is a mess be it tonight or tomorrow,” Charlie says with all the wisdom of Major Tom.  
  


“Sure, I guess,” Mac can’t help agreeing with him, it made sense as long as he didn’t think too hard about it. “You can come in and watch us practice, Coach won’t mind,” Mac jerks his head toward the building, “seating doesn’t start for another hour or so.” He wasn’t expecting Charlie to show up when they had last talked. Most nights, well, six nights a week, Charlie worked as a janitor at some bar in South Philly. Mac hadn’t gone down there yet, mostly in an attempt to avoid his old life. Gaining a scholarship out of high school changed his whole perspective. There really was something out there besides selling weed to his classmates. Even Charlie moved out of his mom’s house and into a studio last year having saved up. Mac was impressed the kid didn’t immediately spend his paychecks, at least that’s what he would have done.   
  


“Nah dude, there’s a really cool buffalo I saw walking over here and I wanna check her out before the game,” Charlie said, his mind already wandering away from their brief conversation. _There must’ve been a reason why he stopped by_ , Mac mused.  
  
  
“Buff..alo” Mac stares at his friend, mind cycling through ideas of what Charlie could have possibly meant. The zoo wasn’t close enough… “The Arboretum? Dude, I can show you the statue tomorrow.”   
  


“Got work in the morning, man, can’t stay over. Besides, there’s only so much sun left out.” Charlie wacks Mac on the arm cheerfully, “I’ll see you at the game!”  
  


“Yea, yea okay.” Mac watches as Charlie turns back around heading toward the campus gardens. “Hopefully, he won’t get lost,” Mac muses. Growing up with Charlie, Mac learned there was a driving force behind everything that kid did regardless of if it made sense or not. It just, sometimes, took a while to piece together. Hopefully, by the end of the game Charlie would remember, otherwise, he really did just want to come and watch Mac. Last year, Charlie had missed the opening game after pulling a double at the bar. One could never be too certain.  
  


Getting his head back into the game, Mac made his way inside the arena. He had a game to win! And hopefully, someone or someones to impress. 

\---------------

The wind picked up that night whistling between the leaves still clinging on to autumn by the time the game was on its way. Students, parents, and faculty filled the stadium spilling outside the rink in big coats and floppy hats. If he hadn’t stayed on campus this whole time, Dennis could tell from the crowd that parking would have been horrendous. Energy was buzzing over the opening game, Nittany Lions versus the Yellow Jackets. A sea of blue and yellow rolled out ready to cheer on their college teams.   
  


Folks weaved around each other in an effort to buy snacks from the concession stand located near the entrance, or gather together- waiting for their companions to show up. This left little room to really see where one was going.  
  


Dennis was hoping that he had followed the correct line. The one meant to be finding their seats, but he couldn’t tell for certain. He ducked around a family of three rewrapping his scarf not paying attention as the young daughter pulled against her mother bumping back into him just as another person moved around, successfully boxing him into the line for team memorabilia.   
  


“Oh, hunny, be careful,” the mother scolded as the child stared up at Dennis.  
  
  
“I like your hair. It’s curly like mine!” The little one said into her mother’s coat sleeve, cheeks flushing pink as they shuffled forward.  
  


“Ah,” Distracted by the child, Dennis ended up following the new line. He knew his looks were absolutely perfect, but hearing it being said, out loud, caused Dennis to pause long enough that the folks behind him began to shove him forward as the line continued to move.   
  


Without fully comprehending what had happened, He found himself staring down at the concession stand employee, probably a freshman from the looks of it.  
  
  
“What can I get ya? Popcorn? Soda? How about a foam finger, those are selling out fast!” Oh yea, it was their first day.  
  


“Get me a finger then.” He replied causing his ears to flush in frustration. He didn’t appreciate being tricked into buying shit. He’ll throw it away later. Damn that little girl.   
  


After exchanging a twenty for a giant blue hand, Dennis beelined it into the building. Noting the seats were already filled, most people had made their way inside and were chatting together waiting for the game to start.  
  


Dennis headed towards the front row. Mac had given him his ticket that morning, promising the best seat in the house. And speaking of, there he was at the edge of the ice, arms folded over the boards chatting with another, smaller, guy.   
  


The two seemed to know each other as Mac opennedly smiled at the other, who’s back faced Dennis. There was an exchange and Mac was laughing, head thrown back, hand holding onto the barricade as he leaned back, the other guy had started dancing, arms folded out at his sides like an imitation of a monkey. Dennis found himself fixated, watching the exchange enamored with how candid Mac was being. Heat rose from his chest, warming his neck and cheeks. Dennis felt his heart skip.   
  


Nope, not cool. Dennis scolded himself tucking his face down into his scarf. He made his way into the row adjacent, refusing to get closer until his body acted correctly.   
  


“Get out of the way.” Dennis huffed, “Move it!”   
  


At the first open seat Dennis plopped down without a second thought, foam finger tucked in lap, obscuring Mac. He regretted not getting high with Dee, the game was proving to be detrimental for his health.   
  


Without the visual there to distract him, Mac’s voice seemed to amplify for Dennis above the growing crowd. Once again he betrayed himself trying to listen in. This was in no way about Mac, Dennis reasoned with himself, he had a nasty habit of wanting to know what everyone said was all.   
  


“Charlie, Charlie! You gotta stop, man,” laughter rang out as the two shared a look then started up again.   
  


“Alright, Mac, you got this! You’re a superstar, badass, hot, capable of scoring goals-”  
  


“I mostly start fights.”  
  


“-Capable of scoring goals but mostly starting fights.” Charlie corrected without missing a beat, an old ritual they practiced since childhood. Mac needed to get pumped up for all of his games and Charlie being there for him.   
  


_Shit, that was cute. Goddamn it, Mac_ , Dennis thought pushing down in his seat, folding his arms over his chest and squishing the finger. His nose tucked into his scarf successfully hiding his face.  
  


Goddamn Asshole.  
  


The lights began to dim, Mac’s cue to head back to the bench while Charlie settled down in the front row, next to Dennis’ empty seat. Dennis eyed the little guy, mind hung up with how easy it was for him to make Mac sing with laughter. It made no sense why he was fixating, Mac had propositioned him only yesterday and yet Dennis found himself digging his heels in.   
  


For the experiment, he reminded himself, all in the name of science.   
  


Music started up as the players from both teams skated out onto the ice, looping around their side of the rink while jeering at their opponents. Mac, number Fourteen, followed his team in shaving the ice, hitting his chest and taunting the Yellow Jacket’s defenseman, who in turn thumped his chest, yelling back obscenities.   
  


Mac laughed thrusting his stick out midway to intimidate the player calling out _Pussy_ before turning his attention to the audience. The crowd was on their feet, stomping in tune to ‘ _Buddy, you're an old man, poor man, playing in the street, gonna be a big man someday’_ \- a song Dennis could appreciate. Queen was a classic. And by the time Freddy sang out ‘ _you big disgrace’_ , he was on his feet cheering along with the rest of them, cupping his hands to amplify his voice. Foam finger wagging to the beat.   
  


Mac made it back to the bench, swinging himself over the boards and settling in as the teams lined up for the first period. 

\------------

The game proved to be rough, both teams fighting for their worth, all that hard work and dedication at the start of term finally being put to the test. Mac’s nerves were lit, his heart hammered over every dance, dodge, and pass, knee bouncing in place waiting for the coach to send him in. He wasn’t the best player, he had to admit, if only to himself, but he was good at one thing and that was roughing up the other team. Get them tired and dizzy, easier to score against.  
  


The coach had watched him back in his senior year, swinging his weight around, circling his opponent before body checking them into the boards. He was scrappy and energetic with a temper that was ready to throw down at any second. A perfect addition to any team. Mac was blown away, rapidly agreeing to something he couldn’t have imagined possible for someone like himself.   
  


Now he watched, eyes glued to the puck as it checked off the boards back into the Yellow Jacket’s zone. “Let’s go! C’mon!” Mac cheered with the crowd. A loud roar shook the stadium as his team made their first goal.   
  


It wasn’t until halfway through the period when Number Twelve was slammed into the boards, folding onto the ice, that the coach sent Mac in, nodding his head toward the player responsible. Mac hit his stick against the ice, hollered out and went to work. He looped around the player calling him names, taunting his game, “A real piece of shit this one!” Mac grinned hoping to cause a scene but the Yellow Jacket only sneered refusing to take the heat. Okay, well, jokes on that guy cause Mac wasn’t just a goon for hire, he also knew how to play.  


With both gloves still on, Mac settled into position waiting for the puck to drop.   
  


“And Lion’s very own Twenty-One wins the face-off! Leading the team down the line. Twenty-One to Eight, back to Twenty-One”  
  


Mac pulled ahead of his Center Forward, blocking the defensemen, making figure eights around one, cursing and shouting, really pushing his luck. The puck bounced off the goal post allowing a clean steal from the opposing team.   
  


“Fuck,” Mac took off after the puck with the others.   
  


“McDonald, cover! Cover!” The coach cried out, waving at Twenty-One as they chased after the Yellow Jacket’s center. 

  
Mac’s blood soared through his veins, a giddiness took over his body pushing him faster than before. He needed to clear a path once they recovered the puck. That was easy. Any dolt could do that, the real magic came when he timed his penalty closer to the net.   
  


“-And he swings away-” The announcer’s voice filtered in and back out as Mac found his opening, “-Feeds the pass over to-”  
  


“McDonald coming from the left absolutely running over the Yellow Jacket’s D-Man! What’s this- Gloves are off! This is what we’re all here for! The crowd is loving it!” 

\----------------------

Dennis was on his feet, foam finger thrown down on the seat, the moment Mac slammed into his opponent, elbowing passed spectators and rushing to the front trying to get a better look at the altercation. Fists were flying. Dennis could hear Mac needling the player into swinging, his hand firmly on the meat of the uniform pushing him away just enough that the hits didn’t land. Purposeful, he noted. Mac planned this.   
  


“Dude, relax, he’ll be okay. Mac’s taken like a ton of beatings before.”  
  


It was hard to pull himself away from the fight and stare at the guy. Charlie. Dennis took the kid in, grubby looking, even with what looked like a new green jacket the kid was still covered in dirt and probably owned at least seven cats. His untamed hair stuck up at odd angles and there was definitely a smell to him. The jealousy Dennis felt earlier subsided, there was no competition. Between Dirt Grub and Michelangelo's David, he knew he’d win hands down.   
  


There was a shout, sounding troublesomely like Mac, that pulled Dennis back to the game. Mac’s cheek was heavily bleeding and the referee was dragging him away. Both players were sent to the box on a two minute penalty.   
  


“Shit” Dennis breathed, pursing his lips in annoyance. He’s gonna have to restock his first aid kit again.  
  


“You should have seen him in high school, Man! Used to jump on those guys’ backs all the time, Dude. Get the shit beaten out of him in almost every game.” The smell grew worse as Charlie stood next to Dennis watching the new play start. Eyes tracking the puck back and forth.   
  


“Fearless?” Dennis questioned.  
  


“Nah, just stupid. Outside of hockey, Bro, Mac would pussy out of fights. He hates getting punched, but, Man, something about Hockey- the blood pumping, nerves on high, it’s like he’s a completely different person.” Charlie informed him, body swaying with the game. “I taught him everything he knows.” The kid grinned, shoving his thumb into his chest, chin held high with pride.  
  


“Huh. You know what, that doesn’t surprise me.”   
  


For the rest of the game Dennis stayed up front with Charlie, cheering for every goal made and pounding his fists against the boards when Mac got on the ice. He was never really into sports, even as a student, only liked it on the surface level, yet he could see why people got swept away as the Lions scored their third point that night.   
  


By the end of the game the Lions won three to one, the second period really putting everyone on edge when it looked like the Yellow Jackets were gunning for a tie. Mac was on the ice more often come third period covering for the center and making it harder for the other team to reclaim the puck. He was fast, faster than some of the other players but tended to fumble when given a chance to score. Dennis realized the coach used him quite literally to skate circles around their rivals leaving the heavy lifting to more skilled players.   
  


“Fuck yea!” Charlie whooped pumping his fists in excitement. “They’re on their way, baby. First game of the season in the bag,” he cheered, turning his attention to the exit while digging his hand into the many pockets of his jacket searching for something. “Wanna wait outside? Mac’s gonna be a while, probably” Charlie pulled out a tiny 3 ounce can and began to shake it following the crowd.   
  


Dennis watched as folks began shuffling out swallowing Charlie up in a sea of blue hats and Letterman jackets. He tugged on his scarf, wrapping it around his neck before re-wrapping it back the other way, he’d have to actually meet up with Mac like promised, as one does when… dating.   
  


Dreadful.  
  


Fidgeting with his coat buttons, Dennis followed the last of the crowd out of the stadium, quickly spotting Charlie who had a wide berth around him. People seemingly avoided his area by instinct. The kid was still shaking the can from before but this time with an added sock.   
  


Ah, spray paint. “Whoa there, buddy,” Dennis warned, pulling the can and sock away just as Charlie was about to spray another round. “Not on campus. And definitely not around faculty.”   
  


Charlie gave Dennis a puzzling look but didn’t try and snatch the can back, instead he seemed to focus down on his boots, unlaced with the beginnings of a new hole at the toe. Kicking at the loose gravel with anxious energy.  
  


“So… You know Mac, huh? Never seen you before,” Charlie muttered looking up, taking in Dennis, making his skin crawl.  
  


“Yeah, We, uh, have psychology together?” Dennis’s voice pitched higher toward the end, not even sure at that point. How much does this kid know. His neck prickled as he flushed with shame, hating every second that he agreed to this stupid plan. Dating was for losers. Chums who needed to work hard to get laid. What was Dennis even doing? Getting judged by some hooligan who smelt like garbage.   
  


“You look old. There’s lines around your eyes.”   
  


“Old? OLD?!” Dennis cried out, “I have you know I have not aged,” he drawled out to make his point, “since I turned twenty you little, shi-”  
  


“A really old twenty year old.”   
  


The noise Dennis made sounded unreal, a deep guttural thing cut off with a shout. He stomped his foot down causing a hushed scene around them. _Fuck_ . Heart pounding against his ribs, Dennis calmed himself back down, combing his fingers through his curls and taking in the night sky. “Fine. Fine. Mac is _in_ my Psychology class”  
  


“So you’re his professor? That’s neat you’re here to show your support. I didn’t know teachers did that.” Charlie mused just as Mac caught up with them.  
  


“Hey, Charlie! So you’ve met Mr. Reynolds?” Mac looked nervous between the two of them. He was bundled up in his frayed brown jacket, a band tee Dennis didn’t recognize and ripped jeans that were probably five years too old. Mac eyed Charlie, brows tight trying to silently communicate something important before looking back over to Dennis.   
  


Dennis watched as it finally dawned on Mac, the reason why he was there. Body relaxed, lips tilted up, Mac sighed, “You came.”   
  


Dennis couldn’t help preening, shoulders pushed back to emphasize his best feature, his pecks, of course. Hell yeah, David outdid Dirt Grub.   
  


“Wouldn’t miss it.” Which, turned out, was true.  
  


“Are you two banging?”  
  


“What?”  
  
  
“CHARLIE!”  
  
  
Charlie rose his hands up in surrender, “I’m just asking, bro. It’s chill. It’s cool.”  
  
  
But it didn’t seem cool for Mac, who had actively started searching the crowd. Desperately trying to catch the eyes of strangers, he looked nervous and lost. His forehead and neck moistened with beads of sweat. “Fuck, dude.” Mac looked spooked, frightened by the thinning crowd.   
  


“Oh shit! Man! Your dad’s out of prison!” Charlie smacked Mac in the arm before snapping his fingers together, “That’s right. I saw him at the bar earlier and wanted to let you know.” Charlie elbowed Dennis in the side, already forgetting about his earlier question, “Mac idolizes his father!”  
  


Mac didn’t look like he idolized his father in that moment, with his skin ashen and fear bright in his eyes.   
  


“What, really?”  
  


“Yea, almost didn’t recognize him, he’s got a new neck tattoo, I think.” Charlie clawed at the right of his neck to indicate placement and size.   
  


Dennis watched the two debating with himself on the merits of looking concerned for Mac’s welfare or not. From piecing together what little information he got from their brief conversation, Mac was most likely not out to his father if Dennis had to make an educated guess.   
  


“We’re not banging,” Dennis cut in, both Charlie and Mac turned to look at him. “Not that I’m aware of, anyways,” Dennis cleared up, opting to tell the truth and checking to see Mac’s reaction.   
  


Mac seemed calm, agreeing with Dennis.  
  
  
“Dude, I don’t care. Bang who you want, buddy.” Charlie gripped Mac’s shoulder in solidarity, jostling his jacket.   
  


“Charlie.” Mac warned without any heat. “Don’t you have a bus to catch? I’ll walk you back, c’mon.”  
  


“I can drive him,” Dennis offered off handily.  
  


“That’s okay, he can take the bus.” Mac quickly replied trying to push Charlie to start walking.  
  


“Um, don’t speak for me. I would lo-ve,” Charlie sang, staring directly at Mac, “To get a ride home from you, Thank you very much -”  
  


“Dennis.” He supplied looking between the two friends. “I parked on the other side of campus near the Humanities building,” Dennis nodded his head in the direction of the school.  
  


“Sweet! Hey, can we visit that buffalo on our way out?”  
  


Dennis frowned looking at Mac, concerned he was too late in snatching the paint away from Charlie.  
  
  
Mac shakes his head, “Don’t ask,” he muttered to Dennis before slapping his hands down on Charlie’s shoulders pushing him forward, “Sure, buddy! We can walk through the Arboretum.”

\-----------

“How old are you? Like, for real tho, cause you’re not twenty.”  
  


“Inappropriate, next question.”  
  


Mac leaned over to get a better look at Dennis’ face. Charlie, having called shotgun, started a round of rapid fire questions the moment they got into the Range Rover which have been steadily annoying their driver as they drove through town. Dennis, with the patiences of having to teach college freshmen for years, answered the ones that he deemed fitting while refusing others.   
  


He liked cats over dogs. But hated the responsibility so had none of his own.  
  


Liked strawberry ice cream.   
  


Refused to answer anything about his parents. Charlie had wanted to know if there was a father, or lack of one like him and Mac. Dennis said he did and refused to answer any follow up questions.  
  


“Okay, what about siblings?”  
  


“I have a sister, whatever you do, don’t compliment her. She’ll follow you around like a baby duck imprinting on it’s mother.”  
  


“Eew, gross, Dude.” Mac sneered from the comfort of the back seat.  
  


“Hey! Mothers are cool,” Charlie corrected, offended on behalf of the mothers nearby.  
  


“I’m just saying!” Mac whined, folding his arms over his chest.  
  


“Cause it’s a girl?”  
  


“It’s a girl thing?”   
  


Both Charlie and Dennis chimed in at the same moment. They just met and were already on the same wavelength, it wasn’t fair. The two shared a look before laughing at Mac’s expense.   
  


“Whatever,” Mac pouted, sinking lower in the seat, holding himself tighter. “I’ve had way more pussy than you, Charlie.”  
  


“Did you like it, tho?”  
  


Staring out the window Mac found himself murmuring _no_ and hoping they couldn’t hear it.   
  


Mac watched as the city rolled by, lights reflecting off the window giving the car a comforting glow in the dark. Up front, Charlie was babbling about something while Dennis hummed. His voice soothing in a way Mac imagined families were meant to be. He had to admit, it was nice having Charlie around again. The only one from his past that understood who he was, even when he didn’t want to accept it himself.   
  


He was…  
  


Gay after all. A sin in the eyes of God.  
  


Mac’s heart ripped against his ribs, an acid chill prickling at his skin threatening to spill out of every pore. He could feel his body tense up and start to shake. Fingertips cold and the air getting sharper. Mac gripped at his stomach, fingers digging in, hoping the pain would distract his body long enough. The bruising from the game only did so much. He hated thinking about it. Hated the word. He was never going to go to heaven with that word above his head. Never going to feel the love of the Holy Father, or accepted into paradise like Kenneth Copeland preached. He hated it, hated it!  
  


“Mac?”   
  


Every morning Ms. Mac plopped lil’ Ronnie in front of the tv, turned the dial, flipping through channels not caring where it landed before getting ready for work. Mac took that opportunity to switch the channel over to the Believer’s Voice of Victory. The man was so passionate, he never failed to pump Mac up before school, readying him to take on the day. And with the love of Jesus, Mac knew he could get through anything.  
  


“Hey, buddy.”  
  


The sudden touch of a hand on his knee jolted Mac back to reality. The car was parked outside of a tall brick building- Charlie’s studio.  
  


Right.   
  


“Mac? You in there?” Dennis asked, gently rubbing circles with his thumb.   
  


Mac had to swallow twice before there was enough moisture to reply. He quickly grabbed Dennis’s hand, squeezing it in thanks before jerking the door open. The air felt good against his face, refreshing. Closing the back door, Mac circled around the Range Rover, over to the passenger side where Charlie waited, having taken the opportunity to get out himself.   
  


“See ya, Charlie.” Mac gave his friend a one arm hug and watched him head inside.   
  


Once Charlie was inside, Mac got back into the car taking a deep breath, an effort to calm his nerves.  
  


“Wanna talk about it?” He could hear Dennis ask. He shook his head silently lacing his fingers over Dennis’, which rested on the medium between them. Dennis tightened their grip and without breaking apart their hands, Dennis put the car in drive.  
  


“Can I go back with you tonight?” Mac asked, chewing on his bottom lip.  
  


“Sure.” Dennis briefly looked over before moving his attention back to the road.   
  


Mac bit his lip unable to hold back his smile.   
  


“Cool.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All illustrations are drawn by me, if you would like to hear me yell and stress about the story over on Twitter, my handle is 0hillien. The story's beats have been established but it still needs to be written and drawn out.
> 
> Art Only - idkmyartwork on social media
> 
> It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia art can be found at pillowfort.social/0hillien tagged IASIP. (NSFW must have an account that's set to view those types of images)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mac finally bangs his professor. He knew Dennis was a five star guy.
> 
> This chapter was meant to be the first half of chapter 3, then I got carried away. Pure smut.
> 
> The next part will take a bit longer to post. Hope you enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is unbeta'd but has been looked over by a hockey fan. I hope I won't scar any fans of Hockey for life with my attempts at game play.
> 
> For reference, there's about an eight year difference between the two. Dennis is 28 ( a year younger than season 1 Dennis ) The year is vague but set around 2012.
> 
> If you would like to view the image larger, right click "view Image" and it will bring you to the larger size.

The car was silent on the ride back to Dennis’ apartment. Not in the alarming way where the air prickled and Mac’s nerves felt on edge, no, this was blissful and calming. A warmth that draped around his shoulders, wrapping him up and ending where Dennis’ thumb had hooked on Mac’s finger, absently rubbing along the length.   
  


A gooey feeling sat comfortably in his belly making it near impossible to think about anything else besides Dennis next to him. When they arrived and parked in the building’s garage, Mac found himself trailing behind, hand still being held. He hoped this was what god’s love felt like. He didn’t have much dating experience, mostly slept around. Even with Carmen, his previous girlfriend, he didn’t remember feeling this dizzy.   
  


Sweaty and nervous, yes, but not this. Not the way he felt his mind empty as Dennis cupped his cheek with their linked hands, or how his chest warmed considerably when Dennis leaned in kissing him, working his mouth open slowly and slipped his tongue inside. Mac grabbed onto Dennis’ jacket pulling him in tighter with a sharp inhale, his brain short-circuiting. They rocked against each other finding their rhythm in the doorway to Dennis’ apartment. Mac’s knee buckled, falling farther into Dennis. He lapped at Dennis, pulling his tongue back in and sucklin. Their mouths slick with spit, rolling together nicely. Mac could feel the desperation grow in his gut with each scrap of stubble against his cheek, their teeth clicking as he tried to build up speed, deepening the kiss and feeling Dennis groan in response. They kissed long enough that Mac had forgotten where they were.  
  


And it took another minute before Dennis withdrew just far enough to get his voice back, “We need to go inside.”  
  


They stood for a beat longer breathing each other’s air. That allowed Mac’s brain to catch up. “Yeah, yeah, okay.” He moved with Dennis as the other stepped backwards, pushing the front door open.   
  


“I’m gonna go to the bathroom and clean up, why don’t you head to the bed, just in there.” Mac watched Dennis nod his head to a closed door near the entrance before slipping out of Mac’s grip.   
  


“O-okay,” he fumbles, answering the empty room.   
  


Mac took the moment to gather himself. His skin felt tight, energy building making him feel sick with need.   
  


“You got this. Don’t pussy out.” Mac dragged his fingers through his hair nervously. This was it. They were finally banging. Dennis' bedroom was clean, but not as bare as Mac’s own room. There was a bookshelf, dresser, full length mirror- Huh.   
  


His reflection looked just as terrible as he thought. His hair stuck up where he had tugged on it, face blotchy and red, bruising noticeable all the while his skin had a nice sheen of sweat glistening against the fluorescent lights. By the time Dennis came back in, Mac had taken his shirt off twice only to second guess himself and put it back on.  
  


“Hey, buddy. You good?” Dennis reached out, rubbing those tense shoulders. Really digging his thumbs in deep.   
  


“Yes. Yeah! Uh-” Mac starred at Dennis’s reflection, grabbing his attention. Their eyes locked. Dennis shifted closer, pressing his body against Mac, trailing his hands lower and slipping them under his shirt.   
  


“Then get on the bed, McDonald,” Dennis breathed into his ear, his eyes never leaving Mac’s.  
  


Mac swallowed hard, nodding his head. The bed was close enough that when Mac stumbled, boots clicking together, he landed on the plush comforter and not the floor. Dennis shook his head, and chuckled going over to his night stand as Mac quickly worked his boots off.   
  


Unlike Mac, Dennis already had his shoes off, toes flexing against the carpet. His pants were undone and he wore a soft looking sweater, sleeves pushed up his forearms. The sweater was just tight enough in the shoulders that when he riffled through the drawers, his muscles rippled, mesmerizing Mac.   
  


“Are you clean?”  
  


“What? Yeah, Dude. I took a shower in the locker room.” Mac replied, backing up against the pillows, settling in.   
  


“No. Hmm. That’s not what I meant, have you been tested?”  
  


“No? I don’t need to. My dick’s not pussing and I’m not itchy or anything.”  
  


“Ugh, gross. Don’t say that word.” Dennis’ face pinched as he shook his head. Whatever he was looking for wasn’t in the top drawer.  
  


“Puss?”  
  


“You’re wearing a condom and getting checked at the campus clinic on Monday.”  
  


“Wait? No way! C’mon!” Mac whined as Dennis tossed a bottle onto the bed and a pack of Trojans. “I hate condoms.”  
  


“If you’re gonna fuck me, you’re wearing one. Non negotiable.”  
  


“Fine. I get to cum on you then.”  
  


“Cum. CUM on me?!” This makes Dennis pause, staring down at Mac, blinking rapidly with one knee parched ready to climb onto the bed.  
  


“Yeah, it’s only fair.”  
  


Dennis made an annoyed grunt to clear his head as he moved to straddle Mac’s thighs. “Fine, you can Superman this hoe,” Dennis relented.   
  


Mac grinned.   
  


“Hell yea, dude!”  
  


Mac felt himself sink deeper against the pillows, his legs falling open as Dennis crawled over him, hands on either side of his head. He stared openly, eyes wide trying to memorize everything about the face above him. “You’re so pretty, Mr. Reynolds,” Mac fought his grin only for it to spread across his face, cheeks pink.  
  


Not wanting to let the compliment go unanswered, Dennis leaned in capturing Mac’s lips. Mac inhaled feeling Dennis’ tongue drag across the inseam of his mouth, waiting for Mac to let him in. Mac could feel Dennis settle, sitting with his legs bracketing Mac’s own, pushing back into his lap. His semi getting real bold inside his jeans.   
  


“I-I haven’t done this before!” Mac’s panic crept in, if he slept with Dennis, there was no denying he wasn’t gay. No amount of makeup and a wig would make Dennis less of a sin.  
  


“What- Mac, are you a virgin?” Dennis pushed up onto his knees leaning away.  
  


“No! No, I’ve had sex. Lots of sex!”  
  


“Okay, I can walk you through it-” Dennis slowed down, reaching for the bottom of his own sweater and yanking it over his head.   
  


“I’ve done ass stuff, too.” Mac murmured remembering Carmen and avoiding Dennis’ bare chest, his pink nipples, that oddly smooth skin. Did he shave everywhere but his face?  
  


Dennis huffed mimicking what Mac whispered back to himself, shaking his head, _Done ass stuff_ . He sat back on the bed as Mac scrambled to sit up.  
  


“So… This is your first time?”   
  


“With a dude! Another guy, you know, a bro. My homie!” Mac babbled, grabbing onto Dennis’ shoulder, tracing his fingers down his chest. “I- uh, have only been with women.”  
  


“Don’t call me homie.” Long slender fingers wrap around Mac’s wrist stroking his rapidly beating pulse.  
  


“But Dude is alright?”  
  


“Sure,” Dennis purred, tugging Mac closer.  
  


“Sweet, Dude!”  
  


“You know what, that’s off the table too.”   
  


Mac was hardly paying attention at that point, eyes fixed on Dennis’s chest and belly, tracing how it rose and fell with each breath, “Cool, cool.” Maybe god wasn’t looking tonight.   
  


He chewed on his bottom lip, mulling over the merits of his mortal soul. Those small pink nipples didn’t look terrible and Dennis’s skin felt silky against his finger tips. The breath hitching after Mac brushed his thumb against the nub was intoxicating him. Making him drunk with desire. Well, that could be sinful, but Mac wouldn’t let it count. He scooted closer dragging the flat of his tongue across the area, sucking and nipping the skin.   
  


“Mac,” Dennis rasped, fingers curling into the back of Mac’s head, holding him in place as Mac rolled his nipple around.   
  


He gripped onto Dennis’ waist, feeling his hip, hooking his thumbs and pulling Dennis further onto the bed. He followed the movement, mouth trailing down, dipping his tongue into Dennis’ belly, nipping at the skin and by the time Dennis laid comfortably against the bed, Mac found himself between his thighs.   
  


Dennis adjusted himself, pushing at his jeans until his cock was freed enough. It bobbed into the zipper. “Fuck, Mac,” Dennis whined.  
  


Lending a helping hand, Mac worked the jeans, scooting along and off the bed as he got them down Dennis’s legs.   
  


He stood staring at the display before him. Dennis’ breathing was strained, skin flushed red, his cock heavy between his open thighs. Mac could feel each heartbeat in his chest. Heat traveled out leaving his toes tingling and brain fuzzy. Eyes blurred narrowing on the man laid out before him. Fuck. He definitely hadn’t reacted that way with any women.   
  


“Mac, take your clothes off.” Fuck-Fuck! He loved hearing his name come from Dennis’ voice. Quickly he rid himself of his own jeans, briefs, and shirt before bouncing back into place. Mac shoved Dennis’ legs further apart, who took the hint and folded them out, opening himself up. Mac groaned, rubbing his hands down the curve of those legs, his cock begging for attention.   
  


“Can I?” Mac looked up, mouth painfully salivating at the opportunity.   
  


“Yeah, suck me with that pretty mouth of yours.” Dennis teased, pushing up on his elbows to get a better look.   
  


Shallowing hard, Mac nodded.   
  


Nuzzling his nose against Dennis’ groin, Mac began to lick at the base of his cock, sucking the skin where his leg met up and inhaling, taking in the musk. Mac’s senses buzzed and became overwhelmed by the smell of it all. Mac dragged his tongue flat against the underside, tasting the saltiness before wrapping his lips around the head.   
  


“Aah!”  
  


Dennis shivered, body quivering and voice high as he hiccuped, begging Mac to get on with it.   
  


With the help of Dennis’ hand buried in his hair, Mac slid down feeling his mouth ache and water. He hallowed his cheeks, flexing his tongue against the vein and swallowed, working his throat. Time slowed for Mac as he closed his eyes, feeling Dennis pulse and grow heavier. Drool gathered and spilled down his chin as he worked the cock between his lips. Mac swirled his tongue against the head before taking Dennis back down and began to hum.   
  


The vibrations rippled through Dennis, causing him to grunt and pant. Little affirmatives slipping out.   
  


“Please, god.” Dennis gulped.  
  


“Yes.” Mac dipped his tongue into the slit, suckling the head.  
  


“There. Just, there”   
  


Dennis couldn’t hold still. His feet pushed into the bedding before slipping down. And after a particularly good set of pressure at the base of his cock, Dennis had cried out snapping his legs shut, holding Mac in place. “Fuck!”  
  


Mac bobbed his head, letting the motion take over, dipping low, sucking and swallowing before gently scraping his teeth. His body was burning up, breathing labored, struggling not to pass out. Mac’s blood buzzed from it. The cock felt heavy in his mouth. Unbelievably good. Mac knew he was gagging for it but he couldn’t stop drowning in pleasure just from sucking Dennis.  
  


Mac opened his mouth wider feeling Dennis start to take over, rocking his hips. He was sitting up on his elbows, watching Mac, no, watching his cock disappear, eyes half lidded. Dennis’s lips looked red and angry, bitten in an effort to keep from crying out. Mac watched him, watched his cheeks grow darker, mouth hung open as he panted completely drunk from pleasure. He dipped lower, feeling Dennis’ cock hit the back of his throat as he picked up speed, bucking his hips.  
  


“Fuck, Mac,” Dennis chocked, fucking his mouth, his hips thrusting faster and faster. Mac could taste the pre-come. “Yea, baby, I’m gonna ram it down your dirty throat.”   
  


Mac groaned, heart speeding up, matching Dennis. All he could do now was let Dennis abuse his mouth. Jolts of electricity pulsed down his belly as he felt the cock get impossibly bigger.   
  


“I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come down your throat. I’m gonna-”   
  


Dennis jerked, arching off the bed. Those long fingers gripped hard, holding Mac in place, not letting up as warmth spread filling Mac's mouth with come. Hot, thick spurts hitting the back of his throat. Oh Lord, Mac felt hooked. He held on as Dennis chased the last of his orgasm, his own cock drooling against the comforter. 

  
  
  
\-------------------

  
  
  


Dennis slipped out, wet with saliva. He hadn’t meant to get carried away, but watching Mac take his cock like a champ, spurred him on. Mac was made for it. Besides, his body was relaxed now which would make their final act all the more grand.   
  


“For someone who’s never been with a man, you sure can take dick.” Dennis mused, feeling the bed for the items he dropped earlier.  
  


“That’s because I’ve sucked cock before.” Mac answered, holding out the lube bottle that he found near his knee.  
  


Dennis pushed the bottle back to Mac, “you’ll need it.” he supplied grabbing a pillow for himself from behind them. “Wait, I thought-”  
  


“Chicks can have dicks, Mr. Reynolds, don’t be transphobic.”   
  


Brain holting, Dennis stared at Mac for a second. Mouth agape, processing what just happened.   
  


Was he just called-   
  


Did Mac just-   
  


“I’m not!” He sputters, cheeks heated.  
  


“I think you are.” Mac’s brows rose high as he played with the lube bottle. “I’ve only ever been with women, and they came in all different shapes and sizes. But they were still women.”   
  


Dennis had to take a moment to appreciate the way Mac described it, “Yeah, okay, buddy.” He shook his head becking Mac closer, “C’mere.” He hooked his finger under Mac’s chin bringing their lips together. Lazily, they share a kiss, lips holding on briefly before licking his way back in. Mac hummed pushing closer, his cock brushing against Dennis’ hip. Dennis maneuvered his knee between Mac’s legs, giving him better friction.   
  


Taking the opportunity, Mac rocked, pushing harder against Dennis. His cock thumped with blood, growing stiff.   
  


“Can you work those fingers for me, baby?” Dennis whispered against Mac’s mouth, cupping his cheek, “I need you.”   
  


Mac shifted his weight onto one side, flipping the cap open and fumbling as he tried squeezing lube into his palm one handed. He tossed the bottle down near Dennis’ waist before rubbing the lube between his fingers.  
  


Dennis moaned as two fingers circled his asshole, spreading lube, feeling a finger catch. He rolled back, settling his weight down onto the pillow, using his feet to lift higher, and allowing Mac better access. Post-orgasm, Dennis’ body felt like jelly, his muscles relented as Mac pushed a finger in, working to the first knuckle. Slick with lube, Mac quickly added a second finger growing impatient.   
  


Feeling his hole stretch around Mac’s fingers, Dennis groaned learning back down against the bed, legs falling open. The image of Mac fucking him silly flooded Dennis’ brain as the sound of Mac’s grunts grew louder.  
  


“Dennis, you’re so beautiful. So hot.”  
  


“Yeah, baby. Add a third. Fuck.” Dennis hiccuped, body rocking in time with Mac’s hand. Fingers fucking faster, stretching him wider.   
  


“Mac, put the fucking condom on! Now. Fuck, Mac.” Dennis wacked Mac’s arm that was holding his weight up. “Fuck me!” He panted trying to get Mac’s attention and shoving the condom wrapper into his chest.   
  


Mac pulled his fingers out, wiping them against the comforter and tore the wrapper open. “You’re such a slut. Those reviews were right.” Mac’s eyes were glazed over, breath coming in quick. Dennis could tell he wasn’t going to last.   
  


“Are you going to fuck me like the slut I am, Mac? Pound into my ass, show me what I’m missing?” Dennis teased, arching his hips off the pillow as he began to stroke himself. His dick jumped at the attention, walking the edge of pleasure and too much.   
  


Condom on, Mac spread more lube around ending with a tight squeeze at the base, an effort to calm himself. “Yeah, I am.” Mac agreed, lining himself up and pushed in.   
  


Dennis relaxed, feeling himself stretch to accommodate Mac’s cock. “Fuck,” he whined closing his eyes, the hand stroking himself slowed in time with Mac’s pace. “That’s it. Don’t hold back,” Dennis rasped out, mouth going dry.   
  


Mac folded himself, hitching one of Dennis’ legs up onto his shoulder and slamming his cock in the rest of the way. Mac groaned, thrusting even faster.   
  


Dennis could feel his body winding up tighter at the new angle, dick swollen as he picked up speed.   
  


Mac set a brutal pace, fucking him wildly into the sheets, one hand gripping Dennis’ waist, keeping him in place while the other held his weight up. God, he loved it. It felt so fucking good.  
  


“Aah, ahh!” Dennis’ toes curled as Mac’s cock pounded into him, thighs spasming. With his free hand, Dennis grabbed Mac’s neck forcing their foreheads together. “Harder,” he pleaded.  
  


“Slut. You whore. Begging for it,” Mac panted. Sweat dripped down his face and onto Dennis, their bodies sticky and their skin hot. Mac fucked into Dennis faster, losing rhythm.   
  


“Keep jacking yourself, Den. Keep it up.” Mac shuddered, pulling out quickly and shoving Dennis back against the bed.   
  


Knowing what he agreed to from earlier, Dennis continued pumping his cock, legs spread open. His skin slick with sweat, and flushed a bright red, Dennis watched Mac rip the condom and start jerking off. He leaned back onto his knees, aiming directly down. His face tight, belly coiled.  
  


“I’m gonna come, Den.” Mac gulped fucking into his hand faster releasing the tension.  
  


Dennis shuddered feeling Mac’s come cover his stomach and abs. “Fuck,” Mac gulped pumping his cock riding out the waves of his orgasm.   
  


Mac’s body jerked, thighs weakening and unable to hold his weight any longer, He fell. Mac landed beside Dennis, pushing up against him as Dennis desperately chased his own building need.   
  


“You fucking, dirty slut. Keep those legs spread for me.” Dennis’ heart lurched to the side, fire pooling in his gut when he heard Mac’s voice against his ear. He swallowed following Mac’s orders to keep his legs open.   
  


“How many people’s cum have you had on you?” Mac moved, folding into Dennis but not reaching out. “Tell me.”   
  


Unable to look anywhere else, Dennis turned his head, staring at Mac. His eyes hooded, cheeks still flushed, Mac looked happy and open. “You’ve, ah, read the comments. Fuck, all of them,” Dennis keened, pumping faster. “Ahh. Everyone.”   
  


Mac scooted closer, licking into Dennis’ ear, biting at the lobe, “come for me, Den.”   
  


And Dennis couldn’t help but comply. His body going tense as wave after wave rippled through him.   
  


“Fuck.”

  
\-------------------

  
  


Afterwards, Dennis dragged Mac into the shower, promising they would sleep once they were both clean. They paid close attention to Mac, more promises for later before making it back to bed. Dennis had replaced the old comforter with a clean one and let Mac burrow under his many blankets as he slipped on his sweater from earlier.  
  


“Your bed smells good.” Mac murmured, burying his face into one of the pillows.   
  


“That’s ‘cause I wash them,” Dennis supplied, climbing into bed. But it was too late, Mac had fallen asleep, his body relaxed and breath shallow. He laid on his side in the middle of the bed, one hand tucked under the pillow leaving Dennis to spoon up against his back.   
  


It took no time at all for Dennis to pass out, his body heavy and tired.   
  


When he woke the next morning, Mac was still asleep. The two had rolled apart sometime in the night. Mac had his arm swung off the side of the bed, laying on his stomach. He sounded labored as he wheezed into the mattress, his face tucked into the pillow.   
  


It was Saturday morning and the guy deserved to sleep in.   
  


Dennis scooted up against the headboard, moving his legs up and crossing them before reaching over the side. His school satchel was pulled from between the bed and side table, might as well get some work done while his companion slept, Dennis thought. Normally, if he hadn’t agreed to a silly thing like dating, Mac would have been kicked out before their shower with the number of a cab service scrawled on his hand, but he wasn’t. Instead he filled half the bed with his legs stretched out, the bruises from his game noticeably visible against his sleep soft skin. 

  
  
  
  
  


\-------------------

  
  


Mac woke to the sound of pen and paper, briefly confused as to why he felt so warm and comfortable sleeping in class. “Hmmm.” He pushed himself up from the bed, blinking the sleep from his eyes. His body felt energetic, even after his game. Strange. He usually needed at least three naps before recovering for their next hockey match.   
  


Feeling the cogs start to turn, Mac’s brain began to fill him in on why he was in a bed that wasn’t his, or how the smell reminded him of class, and why he had a pleasant feeling in his belly. Mac hummed falling back into bed, “I banged the professor.” Mac sighed, his body giddy with excitement.   
  


“You sure did, buddy.” Dennis replies from the other side of bed. He wore a small pair of reading glasses that hung low on his face, his sweater from yesterday pulled over his hands as he continued to grade papers.  
  


“Oh, good morning.” Mac leaned over kissing the side of Dennis's mouth, "are those our tests? Have you graded mine yet?"  
  


"Your's isn't in this pile." Dennis turned, pressing his lips to Mac's.  
  


"Bummer, I wanted to know if I passed." He kissed back, moving to hold onto Dennis better.  
  


Dennis hummed, blindly putting the pile of tests back onto the side table and reaching for Mac to get him closer. "Do you remember serotonin, what color card it was?" Dennis asked, breath ghosting across Mac's lips.  
  


"Ye-Yeah. Blue."  
  


"And what were the blue cards for?"  
  


"The brain, blue was for chemicals in the brain."  
  


"Very good, Mac," Dennis praised. "Happen to remember what it does?"  
  


"It's the key hormone that stabilizes our mood, makes us happy," Mac grinned, "like doing cocaine!" He laughed, licking into Dennis' mouth as Dennis paused to process what was said.  
  


"That's not in the book."   
  


Mac shrugged, "I asked Yahoo before class. Do I get my reward now?"   
  


Bullshit. Dennis narrowed his eyes knowing full well Mac didn’t own a laptop or smartphone but not bothering to call him out. Maybe he did go to the library and studied before class.   
  


“Yea, let’s give you that reward, baby boy.” Dennis cooed, growing hard and shifting them so that they were spooning together with Mac leaning back against him. One hand trailed down Mac's side as he pushed closer with the other.   
  


Mac sat back, his ass cradled against Dennis' groin and folded his leg up. "Dennis, you promised," he whined.   
  


"Shhh, it's okay, baby, I got you." Dennis grabbed the bottle of lube from last night and covered his fingers. Moving them down, he could hear Mac's breath hitch at the first touch. Dennis rubbed the muscle, coaxing Mac open.   
  


"Wait, what about a condom?" Mac tried looking back just as Dennis slipped a finger inside, distracted for a moment.  
  


Dennis grinned against Mac's neck, kissing the sweat that built there, "I don't need one. I'm clean." He worked Mac loose, added a second finger. "Gonna fill you up, would you like that?"  
  


Somehow, That didn’t sound right- what Dennis said. He was pretty sure they still had to wear one until his appointment but hearing about cream pies had Mac quivering, rocking his hips in time with Dennis' hand.  
  


"Yes. Ah."  
  


"That's it." Dennis nipped at Mac's shoulder pumping his fingers faster until there was little restraint before adding a third.   
  


Mac groaned as Dennis used his fingers to keep Mac open and lined himself up. The head of his cock bumped forward, pushing in.   
  


"Ahh!" Mac’s hand flew back, grabbing onto Dennis, fingers digging in.   
  


Dennis shifted, forcing Mac down onto the bed, his lifted leg stretching closer to his chest as he laid on his belly, hips arching. "Relax, baby, let me in." Dennis rolled his hips, rocking into Mac at a slow, leisurely pace. His cock half way before pulling out and pushing back in just that bit more.  
  


Mac held onto the sheets, Dennis' weight solid against his back, moaning, voice growing louder spurring Dennis on. Fuck, he loved feeling this full.   
  


No shade to Carmen, her patience was a gift from god. Especially how she had to direct Mac on new ways to have sex but she shadowed in comparison to the way Dennis felt sheathed fully inside him. He had pictured it, dreamt about the weight pressing him down, holding him in place- dominating him for years. He had hoped that Carmen was his answer, God would be happy, he was with a woman, but neither Carmen nor Mac felt happy. She realized early on but Mac refused to listen, refused to hear her call him gay.   
  


Dennis began to thrust deeper, setting a slow pace, nuzzling against Mac’s neck.   
  


“Come back, baby boy.”

Shaking, Mac pushed up trying to build friction, mewling at the new angle. Dennis refused to work faster. 

“Den, harder,” Mac begged as Dennis’ weight pushed him further into the bed, rocking into him.  
  


“Please,” he sobbed, feeling pressure build in his gut.   
  


“Shhh,” Mac felt Dennis lick under his ear, nipping at his neck, his body heated as Dennis’ cock bumped up against the bundle of nerves, over and painfully over. His speed relaxed.   
  


Weakly Mac tried to move his hand down under him to add more but Dennis slapped it away, yanking his arm back and holding onto his wrist. “You’re gonna come from my cock.” He was informed. Tears split from the corners of his eyes, as Mac sobbed for more. Hungry.  
  


Mac felt his weight shift and whined at the loss as Dennis got off the bed. But hands were quickly back on him. Dennis hooked Mac’s legs, yanking his hips back and off the mattress. Mac’s feet settled down on the floor, his torso bent at the waist and face buried in the sheets. He held on, sobbing, gulping in air as Dennis roughly thrusted back in. He started moving again, faster, grinding Mac’s body against the bed with his frenzied thrusts.   
  


“Ah! Aah, Den-nis” Mac moans, biting his lip and tucking his face deeper into the sheets. His ass clinching in time. Their skin was coated with a thin sheen of sweat, adding to the ease in which Dennis fucked Mac. Their rutting filled the room with the sounds of skin slapping against skin. Mac felt himself turn into a sloppy mess.  
  


Mac’s mind was in a daze, white noise filled his ears as Dennis grasped his hips and angled his thrusts. His cock scraping against Mac in the most delicious way. Mac’s insides throbbed, aching, burning him from the inside.   
  


“Yes! Yes! Please.” Mac begged, drool pooling where his face was pushed into the bed, “Dennis! Fuck!”   
  


The sound of Dennis’ grunting filled the room, Mac felt him wipe sweat away from his brow before grabbing back onto Mac’s waist tugging him impossibly closer. Mac turned his head, blinking his eyes open to take in what he could. The full length mirror stood in such a way that the two of them were on display. Mac’s body hung off the bed, his cock a deep angry red between his legs, desperate with need, his back was arched in a way that had his ass out, standing on his toes as Dennis pushed him repeatedly against the mattress.   
  


And Dennis. Dennis was staring at them, watching himself fuck deeper into Mac. Thrusting harder and slamming into Mac, “Fuck, baby, you would look so good on tape,” Dennis purrs.   
  


“Yes!” Mac couldn’t help the sob that tore from his throat at the thought, turning to get a better view of himself. He watched helplessly, his own face reflected back in the thrones of ecstasy. His body tensing up. Finally, all that pent up pleasure inside him was building, reaching a high point. Mac inhaled sharply as he spasmed, back arching, come spurting onto the sheets.  
  


Dennis reached forward, feeling Mac squeeze around him. He grabbed a handful of hair, yanking his head back, anchoring himself. “You were made for this!”  
  


“Yes,” Mac groaned from the sharp pull, shocks of electric pleasure rippled through him.   
  


Dennis didn’t last long after that, his own come filling Mac’s ass as they watched each other in the mirror.   
  


Dennis slowed, hands gripping onto Mac’s waist. He pressed himself over Mac, panting against his back, “Jesus Christ, Mac. Remind me again why I thought this was a bad idea again.”   
  


Mac’s body shook with laughter, skin noticeably slick causing the two of them to stick together, “Because you’re a dumbass?”   
  


A sharp jolt wakes Mac from his post-orgasmic haze. He groaned, wiping his sweaty face against the sheets. Dennis had smacked his ass in retaliation, laughing along with him as Dennis’ phone chimed.  
  


A text.   
  


Dennis slipped out. Mac could feel the trail of come still connecting them, “I need a shower,” Mac complained, leg spread. Dennis leaned over him, pushing his come back into Mac.  
  


“And I need coffee. You can shower when we get back,” Dennis breathed into Mac’s ear, licking the sweat on his neck. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All illustrations are drawn by me, if you would like to hear me yell and stress about the story over on Twitter, my handle is 0hillien. The story's beats have been established but it still needs to be written and drawn out.
> 
> Art Only - idkmyartwork on social media
> 
> It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia art can be found at pillowfort.social/0hillien tagged IASIP. (NSFW must have an account that's set to view those types of images)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter, it deals with drug use, panic attacks and has the f slur.
> 
> Fun little nugget, while researching for this story I learned that one of the many street names for cocaine is Charlie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is unbeta'd but has been looked over by a hockey fan. I hope I won't scar any fans of Hockey for life with my attempts at game play.
> 
> All illustrations are drawn by me, if you would like to hear me yell and stress about the story over on Twitter, my handle is 0hillien. The story's beats have been established but it still needs to be written and drawn out.  
> >If you would like to view the image larger, right click "view Image" on browser and it'll bring you to the larger size.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

  
  
  


“Mac, this isn’t a date.”  
  


“Are you sure? It feels like it is. You’re even paying,” Mac reasoned as they made their way to the café at the end of the block.   
  


As hot as it sounded, Mac couldn’t bring himself to walk out in the state he was in. Dennis admitted that he was probably right and let him quickly wipe up as much as he could without delaying them. Dennis even provided a new V-neck sweater and a pair of sweatpants for Mac to change into then switched his own sweat soaked sweater with an undershirt, button up and cardigan combo.  
  


“C’mon, Den.” Mac bumped into Dennis’ shoulder, “A perfect date ends with the fun stuff.” Dennis slowed as Mac moved in front of him, hand splayed out against his chest, “Well,” Mac suggested wiggling his eyebrows for added effect, “How about it? A Date?”  
  


Dennis shook his head, laughter coming in shallow huffs at Mac’s obvious suggestion. “Only on one condition, baby boy,” Dennis cooed.  
  


“Anything!” Mac’s smile grew wider.  
  


“I get to choose what we do, that sounds fair to me?” Dennis challenged, raising an eyebrow, pushing Mac’s comfort zone and seeing where he could go with it.  
  


“Uh, sure?” Mac questioned opening the door to the café and letting Dennis in first, “Should I call you daddy?”   
  


“Not in that tone of voice,” Dennis dismissed the suggestion as Mac made a suggestive noise behind him. The store was empty inside allowing them to order right away.   
  


“You like calling me Mr. Reynolds.”  
  


“Mr. Reynolds.”  
  


“Keep that, I like that, gives it a tone of authority for the bedroom.”   
  


“Mr. Reynolds! Are you going to order?”  
  


“You’ll worship me like the good boy that you are. A good sub will show me his adoration, won’t you, Mac?” Dennis hummed, leaning in closer, sharing a breath. 

  
Mac, equally lost in their conversation, jumped at the loud voice trying to grab their attention. 

“EW, GROSS, Mr. Reynolds. I don’t consent. Keep that at home, Asshole!” 

“Jackie…” Dennis finally noticed the barista staring at them, holding a cup ready to write down their order. She had been in his class two semesters before, heard his sleep with students speech, and proceeded to call him out on his sexism any chance she got. Feminists. Too much of a backbone, knew her worth, and did not let him get away with acting nasty. It was a nightmare learning that she had taken a part-time job at his favorite café. Everyone became well-informed about his character and she would even write _Asshole_ on his cup instead of his name, which employees were more than happy to call out.   
  


But their Caramel Apple Chai was to die for and no amount of her snarky comebacks were going to make him think any less of himself. He was a god. A gift to be enjoyed. She was just picky, that bitch.   
  


“The usual,” Dennis ordered then turned to Mac.  
  


“Ahh, eh, Coconut and Clove Mocha?” Mac quickly read the day’s special from the chalkboard in the back having forgotten what he normally would order from the sheer embarrassment he felt.  
  


Dennis paid then they grabbed their drinks and hurried out the store.  
  


“What a judgy bitch,” Mac whined   
  


“Mac, let’s go.”

  
  
  
  
  


\-----------------------------------

  
  
  
  


By the time Mac got out of the shower, having thoroughly cleaned himself, Dennis was at the dregs of his chai debating with himself if he wanted to take the last gulp or not.   
  


That bitch made a mean ass drink.   
  


He sat at the kitchen table, phone out, replying back to his sister when he heard Mac walk in. His hair was wet, falling into his face and he had one of the plush towels from the bathroom wrapped around his waist when Dennis pressed send.   
  


“Hey, Dennis,” Mac dragged out Dennis’ name, eyes to the ground, brushing his toe against the flooring nervously. “Do you think you can drive me back to campus?” He asked in the same tone of voice Dennis imagined one would ask a parent- reaching out but not wanting to get into trouble. If he cared anything about his father, he might have used the same tone, but he didn’t and couldn’t bring himself to understand Mac’s hesitance.   
  


“Dude, look at me.” Dennis swirled his take-away cup then lifted the lid to inspect the last of his drink. _Hmm, no, don’t drink that_ . He sneered down at the remains, re-capping it as his phone chimed.   
  


_Maybe having Mac call me Daddy isn’t such a bad idea…_ Dennis debated with himself.   
  


Mac shuffled, anxious before taking a seat in front of Dennis, arms folded on top of the wooden table. Hands clasped together. “There’s a game tonight, you should come.”   
  


Dennis gazed up from his drink to Mac, who’s eyes looked impossibly large for a guy in his… twenties? Shit, he didn’t even know how old Mac was.   
  


“Can’t. Dee, my sister, “ Dennis helpfully supplied just in case Mac had forgotten his relation. “Needs me to come over.”   
  


“Oh,” Mac muttered, eyes downcast.   
  


“Hey there, buddy, you’ll see me in class on Tuesday.” Dennis got up to throw away his cup, clapping Mac on the back as he went.  
  
  
Mac turned to watch, his own drink long gone by the time they made it back to the apartment, having had drunk it too fast. “Really?”   
  


As if they didn’t have class together every Tuesday and Thursday since August. Dennis held back his eye roll, chucking the cup in the garbage under the sink, “Yea, I’ll be there.”   
  


“Sweet.” 

  
“Go get changed and stop dripping water all over my kitchen floor,” Dennis scolded, halfheartedly, shooing Mac back into his bedroom, “You can wear the sweats, I’ve got an extra pair.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


\-----------------------------------

  
  
  


Dennis dropped Mac back off at PENN, near the student housing, before making his way into town. Dee lived a good fifteen-minute car ride from campus claiming that she got a better deal on her one-bedroom than if she tried to find a place closer. Dennis scoffed at the thought of having to drive thirty minutes everyday just for work. He had convinced their mother to lend him a hand with rent. Professors’ salaries were notoriously low waged. The hour long lecture about his wasted potential was worth the cost of monthly rent since he moved out of his fraternity. Dee was never going to receive the same treatment. Their mother hated her, only had eyes for the golden child.   
  


“Hey, you remember our old drug dealer? You know the creepy, tall, older guy that hung around campus?” Dee asked as Dennis let himself in. She had a tin in her hand, setting something up on the coffee table near her couch.  
  


“Yea, Dee. I remember. I remember you being scared shit-less that he was gonna ‘ _eat you_ ’.”  
  


“Shut up! He was scary! He never blinked. What else was I supposed to think? Fuck it- doesn’t matter,” Dee shook her head, sitting at the edge of the cushion, scooting closer to the table making room for Dennis to join her. “Turns out, he’s still around and selling! Guess who got a nice rock of cr-ack?” She singed, opening the tin to reveal a small baggie of white powder.   
  


“Didn’t he used to call it Charlie?”   
  


“Pfft, yea, weird huh? Would laugh every time we tried to order a rock. I wonder if he’s got a kid named Charlie.”  
  


“Oh god, I can’t even imagine being that guy’s kid.”

Dennis hesitated for a moment before sitting down next to Dee reaching out and opening the bag. “Man, I haven’t done this… in years.”  
  


“Me neither… C’mon, I don’t want to do this by myself,” Dee whined, bumping shoulders with her brother, “What’s the harm in a little crack? Let’s celebrate. To new relationships!”   
  


“Dee, you’re not in a relationship,” Dennis side-eyed her, pulling a dollar bill from his wallet and rolling it up.   
  


“Hey, maybe I can date the burger king.”  
  


“Fuck you, bitch”  
  


“Whatever, loser.”   
  


The twins each took a turn with the rolled up dollar bill. Taking a hit off of Dee’s coffee table, a white line each at first that quickly turned to two when neither of them felt anything. Of course, Dennis’ giddiness and Dee’s inability to sit still notwithstanding. Dee ended up bouncing in tune to Material Girl in the living area after turning on her stereo and popping in her Madonna’s Celebration album. While in the bedroom, with the partition pushed all the way back, Dennis mirrored her dance moves, jumping on her bed, his feet and chest bare and flushed red from overexertion.  
  


“You know, _we are li-ving in a material world, and I am a material girl_ ,” Dee squawked out.  
  


Dennis leaned down from the bed singing in a higher, and better sounding key, “ _Some boys romance, some boys slow dance_ .”  
  


“And, _That's alright with me_ !” They both finish in a fit of laughter.   
  


“We should go to the club like old times!” Dee pitched as the song switched to Beautiful Stranger.   
  


“Aren’t you too old?”  
  
  
“You’re the same age as me!”  
  


“Pfft, I am way younger in spirit,” Dennis shined, gesturing to himself and all that he had to offer.  
  


“You mean, because you consume virgins?” Dee countered, swiping at Dennis’ ankles, “Stop bouncing on my bed, you’re gonna break it!”  
  


“Whatever, you can get dad to buy a new one.”   
  


“You know he won’t.”  
  


“Then, I’ll,” Dennis carried the tune, “ask mom. She loves me. I’m mommy’s best boy,” he mocked, continuing to bounce but in slower jumps. “I still feel fine, why did we stop using again?”  
  


Dee made a noise of acknowledgement climbing over the couch, “You got a job at PENN? Remember?” She poured the last of their baggie onto the table, cutting two more lines, “You can’t do cocaine and be a teacher-”  
  
  
“SHhhh,” Dennis laughed, climbing down to join his sister with their last hit.  
  


“I think you’re high!” She commented, nose white.  
  


“I think you’re a bird! Hah,” Dennis took the bill from her hand and snorted his own line, “Hey do you think Mac will let me snort coke off his ass?”  
  


“I think you’ll get fired for corrupting your student,” She laughed, getting up and going into the bedroom.   
  


Dennis followed quickly after, “I’ve already corrupted him,” He said, wiggling his eyebrows for emphasis.   
  


“I knew you couldn’t keep it in your pants!” Dee swung open her closet door, peering inside. “So are we doing it?”  
  


Dennis shouldered in beside her, going through each item, “Trash, vomit yellow? Really, Dee. You’re not getting laid in that.”  
  
  
She huffed, whacking his arm and pulling out a red little number.  
  


“Oh, no, no, absolutely not.” Dennis jerked the hanger out of her hand and tossed it onto the bed. “Black. It’s slimming, it’ll really bring out how grossly underweight you are.” He pulled out a small black dress, long sleeves and low collar, “perfect. Wear that- now, for me,” He turned his attention back to her closet, one hanger at a time, licking his teeth and clicking his jaw.   
  


“Oh, shit! You still have yours.” Dennis shoved all Dee’s clothes to the side to reveal her blue, boned waist trainer. They had bought a matching set during college to try and win some Halloween contest. “Help me into it!”  
  


“What, no, you’re gonna ruin it! It’s too small.”  
  


“Please, Dee, please, please, please,” Dennis whined holding the corset out to her. “You can have the rest of the coke!” He bargained.  
  


“You took the last of it!” She yelled back, grabbing the corset form his hands and motioning him to turn around, “fine! I’ll put it on you! Don’t complain when you pass out.”  
  


Dennis grinned, feeling the boning constrict against his sides, tapering his waist. Fuck. He’s going to look like a goddamn Deity. Some winged liner, lip gloss, and Dee’s floral button up, the one with the wide shoulders- He would look like a fucking desert on the dance floor.   
  


Why he thought of Mac at that moment, was beyond him.   
  


That night the twins danced their hearts out, the Rainbow had a two for one special on their well drinks and they took advantage. It was fine, it was Saturday, the two concluded, feeling great in the thong of dancers.   
  


They passed out somewhere in Philly and woke to the smell of garbage and dog breath. Somehow, Dennis still managed to hold onto his phone and wallet through the whole ordeal, getting them a cab back to Dee’s place. Not bothering to look at the time. The two curled up together on Dee’s queen sized bed and slept all of Sunday away. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


\-----------------------------------

  
  
  
  
  


Mac felt- Amazing.  
  


The team won their Saturday game, giving them a two for two running score, a celebration high that lasted well into Monday. He even remembered to go to the campus clinic through all the excitement.   
  


What he didn’t like so much was not being able to tell Dennis about it. Mac had realized on game night, grabbing his Nokia to send a quick text about the winning score, that he never got Mr. Reynold’s phone number. Not on Thursday when they studied together. Not on Friday after the big win, or Saturday afternoon when Dennis dropped him back off at school.   
  


That needed to be rectified.  
  


Mac would just have to get it on Tuesday he reasoned. He’ll show up extra early, wearing his blue dickies, the ones without any holes and his grey polo. That’ll win Dennis’ attention. Mac even had a black tie for fancy events- No, that’d be too much.   
  


Unless-

“Mac, why are you wearing a tie?”  
  


“I got tested! Yesterday,” Mac beamed, leaning into Dennis’ space from the desk he sat at. “I wanted to call you, but I never got your number.” Mac watched Dennis organize his folders, his shoulders were slummed and dark circles lined his eyes. He had pulled out those plastic sheets teachers liked to write on when they used the overhead projector and placed them to the side.  
  


“That’s because I don’t give my number out to students,” Dennis replied, eyeing Mac just as students began to fill the classroom, taking their seats. “Class is about to start, Mr. McDonald.”   
  


Mac’s cheeks heated from being dismissed so casually but he relented silently and went to sit in the back like always.   
  


The eighty minute lecture felt longer than normal. Dennis’ voice was still soothing, a comfort Mac usually looked forward to, however this time Mac forced himself to pay attention. His notebook opened and his pen between his teeth.   
  


Why did Dennis not want to give Mac, who he was dating- he agreed! His phone number?   
  


Mac didn’t like the idea of being arm's length from his goal unable to reach it. He’d have to convince Dennis that they were meant for each other. Right? Dennis had to feel the same.   
  


After class, Mac kept to his seat. He waited for each student to leave, arms crossed, holding on tightly as a pair of blondes chatted up Mr. Reynolds. Mac watched as Dennis grinned, eyes half lidded listening to the girls gaggle and chirp about upcoming events. Finally, after forever, the two left leaving Mac alone.   
  


“Mac, class is over,” Dennis said, walking over to the back desk, he had his bag swung onto his shoulder and held a notepad and loose papers.   
  


“I know you probably don’t like dating,” Mac began, voice building in volume as he stared into the faux wood, “but you agreed. Stop being a pussy. This isn’t fair! You agreed to date me, we should have each other’s numbers! Why can’t you give me your number? That’s bullshit. Fucking-bullshit.” By the end Mac’s face was bright red, his fists were clenched tightly under the desk. And He had hunched in on himself by the time he finished.   
  


Dennis laid a scrap of paper down, sliding it in front of Mac.   
  


“You’re right. I did agree.”   
  


Mac noted that Dennis hadn’t been writing during his rant.   
  


Yet, there it was, ten digits, Dennis’.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


\-----------------------------------

  
  
  
  
  
  


For the next two weeks, Mac and Dennis were inseparable, easily falling into a routine that made Dee joke during Twin Time, that they hardly knew each other and were already 50 years into their marriage.   
  


Dennis scoffed at the thought, shaking his head, telling her she was imagining things while simultaneously agreeing to a weekly dinner schedule with Mac. He liked to dress up, go out somewhere fancy, who didn’t? Dating was the perfect excuse.  
  


Wednesday night, mid-week for a pick-me-up, they would dine out, Friday Dennis would go to Mac’s hockey game and they would proceed to celebrate the rest of the night in bed. Mac found himself staying over at Dennis’ apartment more often than not, leaving shirts that Dennis didn’t recognize and sporting new sweaters during practice that were way too expensive for his own closet.   
  


He hadn’t heard anything from his father and was too anxious to call Charlie about it. Senior year of high school he had written Luther about getting a scholarship, how he was going to go to PENN State. Make something of himself, someone Luther could be proud of. Then during his first year in college, Mac found himself visiting his father in prison, hockey gear in tow hoping to get a glimpse of familiar pride.   
  


Now, though, with his father out and on the street, Mac became all too paranoid about running into him with Dennis. If Luther found out, it was just going to be another strike against him. Another reason to hate his son. Mac acknowledged, deep down, when the shadows grew too dark and the air too cold, that his parents didn’t much care for him. He started off life limping and having a sin hanging over his shoulders, ready to drop at any given moment, well, that was going to take him out of the race. If Luther knew, then God definitely did.   
  


He never voiced his concerns to Dennis and yet, when the mood would shift, Mac found the two of them on Dennis’ couch, blanket and snacks in their laps and classic 80s films playing on the TV.   
  


The beginnings of movie night.

  
  
  
  


\-----------------------------------

  
  


The days flew by, filled with students, tests, and Mac.  
  


Dennis was on cloud nine.   
  


But more importantly, he was high as a kite thanks to Dee texting her dealer and somehow getting him to agree to swing by campus. Mac was already in practice, game in a few hours when Dee swaggered her way into Dennis’ office, pulled the blinds down so no one could see in and pulled out the little baggie.  
  


“The game’s going to be so amazing! Just watch!”   
  


Unlike Dennis, Dee was just going to go home afterward, she could care less about Dennis’ boy toy, but it was quality twin time, and they were so good those past few weeks, Halloween was coming up and the lions were still winning, a celebration was in order.  
  


“Not too much, I still have to drive home.”  
  


“Just walk, you don’t live that far.”  
  


“Whatever, just cut it already!”  
  


Dennis felt fucking incredible standing with the crowd as they cheered. It was the second period, the game was tied, each team had one point, keeping the audience on edge. Dennis stood in the front, the same seat he took every game. While one next to him stayed empty as Charlie normally worked on Friday and would come watch Mac on Saturdays instead.   
  


The buzz he experienced kept his energy on par with even the youngest of students that night. He cried, yelled, and cheered every time the puck got close to the goal.   
  


“Fourteen, pinches in.”  
  


“He gets it over-”  
  


Mac was on the ice, dancing between players, working his way down the line when Dennis’ skin began to crawl. He looked over and noticed a tall man, hair slicked back, goatee, and a barbed wire tattoo around his neck. Not a professor, Dennis noted taking in the long black jacket and jean vest underneath. If he was, it had to be for shop class.   
  


“McDonald takes the shot- SCORES!”  
  


“FIVE-HOLE. FIVE-HOLE” the cheers started up, feet stomping down as the Lions scored their second goal. Mac, at the other end Dennis registered, had frozen mid-chant, his teammates slapping him on the shoulder and coaxing him back to center ice.   
  


“Reynolds?” The man’s voice was deep, eerie, and rumbled in a way that kept the hairs on the back of Dennis’ neck standing.   
  


Dennis’ pupils were dilated, his face flushed and sweaty, he felt high and looked it too. It was a terrible idea to engage with people but Dennis found himself staring at the stranger anyways, “Do I know you?”   
  


“Ah, haha.” The man grinned, staring across the ice, as Dennis fidgeted, brushing his tongue against his teeth then back again.  
  


“Still enjoying my products?”  
  


Dennis’ eyes widened. Jesus Christ.  
  


“Wait,” he worked his mouth trying to come up with words that his sluggest mind hadn’t processed. His brain mauled over different scenarios, different products until it landed- His old drug dealer, Dee’s new drug dealer. That creep who would hang around campus chain smoking until one day the cops had caught on and he was arrested.   
  


Shit. SHIT.   
  


“Hey, man, if you’re looking for payment, that’s all on Dee. I have nothing to do with her business transactions,” Dennis nervously spewed out. Sweat building at his brow. “I don’t have anything. If she owes you shit, you gotta go through her!”   
  


Luther turned his head enough to peer at Dennis, his eyes bright, unwavering. Yea, Dennis could see why Dee always felt like their drug dealer wanted to eat her. 

  
“Gloves are off tonight!”  
  


The man was straight from the pages of Silence of the Lambs.   
  


“McDonald going hay-wire! Blood is flying! Christ on a stick, someone pull him off!” The announcer yelled causing Dennis to jerk away and back to the game. Mac was on top of another player, gloves off and fists flying. He looked deranged, a shadow creeped onto his face, he was out for blood.   
  


The referee tried pulling Mac off, arms hooked around his midsection, but Mac swung back, elbowing the guy in the face. Dennis’ blood peaked, the drugs in his system sending him into overdrive, clouding every instinct that told him to stay still. Fucking, Mac! He darted around the dealer, shoving passed bystanders to get to the gate. He swung himself over and onto the ice as chaos raged on.  
  


The players slid back, letting Dennis through, “Mac, Fuck’s sake, stop! Look at me! Mac!” He glided over, landing on his knees beside Mac, hesitant to touch him.  
  
  
Mac had the guy’s collar firmly in his fist, whacking the player’s head into the ice when something snapped. The air fizzled and sparked around him when Dennis tried to grab Mac’s attention, “Hey pal, it’s okay.” Mac skin looked grey, his face bloody and bruised from the player’s retaliation, and his knuckles looked broken. Dennis noticed that Mac had stopped breathing, standing on the ledge about to tip over.   
  


The noise around them faded and buzzed in and out, the referee was still trying to get Mac up and off the ice, but he wouldn’t budge.   
  


“Baby.”  
  


Tears began to stream down, soaking his cheeks at the endearment, his eyes finally snapped up to meet Dennis’.   
  


“No,” Mac whispered, scrambling away from Dennis. His eyes darting behind him, shifting around, searching for something. “Fuck, shit, goddamn it!” The referee dragged Mac off the player telling him something that Dennis didn’t catch. He was too focused on the terrified look Mac had as he was hauled off the ice. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


\-----------------------------------

  
  


There was nowhere to hide Mac’s shame, nowhere to run. He was caught, a rabbit too skittish to run, as Luther stood next to Dennis in the crowd. Lips turned up at the side, watching his son score. Mac felt his heart in his throat, skin burning up from the quickening pace. Dennis looked frightened, gaping up at the man beside him. Luther’s frame threatening in only the way someone 6’4 could do.   
  


The sudden lack of air left Mac feeling nauseated. He couldn’t breath. Blood poured down to his feet, leaving a cold numbness in its wake. Every muscle in his body was tightening, shaking with excess energy with nowhere to go.   
  


Nowhere.   
  


Nowhere to go.  
  


Luther laughed.  
  


And Mac felt a hand on his shoulder, tugging him forward.   
  


The last thing his rational mind thought was n _o, it’s not happening_ .  
  


By the time he blinked back to reality, memories flooded in, blurring together. Dennis was there, staring at him. Their faces a breath away. Dennis looked scared, perched close, leaning into Mac’s space.  
  


“No,” Mac sobbed, scooting back and desperately trying to find his father in the crowd. His skates dug deeper into the ice as he felt someone yanking him onto his feet. Luther stood near the exit, waiting for his son.   
  


“Fuck, shit, goddamn it!”  
  


How much did he know. Did he threaten Mr. Reynolds? Was he there to finally tell Mac he was unwanted? Could never be loved? A dirty, fucking, queer faggot?   
  


There was nowhere to go.  
  


Mac made it back into the locker room, penalty waved, he was off the ice. Third Period forgotten and suspension under his belt, Mac was told to go home. Saturday’s game was off limits. The coach had been fuming, screaming at Mac for his unorthodox behavior, and to his own teammate no less! Mac knew the only reason he didn’t have a higher suspension was because he looked just as wrecked, tears and snot running down his face.   
  


When the coach asked him what had happened back there, Mac didn’t have an answer. He just shook his head and was left alone to clean up and leave.   
  


The cold wind stung deep down to Mac’s bones as he left out of the back exit. The same his father had stood near.   
  


He had restrained from wearing Dennis’ sweater, still hung up in the locker room, too fancy, and opted to dress in his old battered tee and brown jacket. He did, however, sport the extra soft grey sweatpants Dennis loved so much. This close to Halloween, fuck wearing his jeans, he never kept an extra pair there anyways. The weather was too cold. He pulled his jacket tighter to keep the chill from setting in.   
  


“Tell you what, I got a proposition for you. A father son type of thing,” Luther’s voice was level as he walked over from the sidewalk. His own jacket buttoned up, one hand in his pocket while the other held onto a black backpack, swung up onto his shoulder.   
  


Mac felt his knees lock up, his palms sweating, “Yea?” his voice squeaked out, the sound forcing him to swallow his words and try again, “yea, dad?”   
  


Luther walked over, bag forced into Mac’s hands, “I need you to do something for me,” Luther sniffed peering over his nose at his son.  
  


Mac looked down at the bag, realizing what his father wanted him to start doing again.   
  


“I - uh”  
  


“You see, I had a pretty lucrative business back in the day and I’m thinking of expanding again. I’ll need your help to do that,” He soothed, pulling Mac’s need for acceptance and validation out with every word he spoke.  
  


“Ah- of course, dad!” Mac stammered. The anxiety from before keeping him on alert as Luther moved back.  
  


Mac wanted to vomit.   
  


He still had questions and no answer. Luther wanted him to start selling drugs but did he know about Dennis? Why were they talking?  
  


Mac stood there long after Luther walked off, bag clenched in his arms. Desperate for answers he would never get. His fingers gripped tighter causing the baggies and tins inside to push against his chest, reminding him of his old life.   
  


“Mac?”  
  


Dennis was there. Standing at the corner, a few yards away and out of breath. His face was bright from the cold weather. Probably had been searching for a while. “Mac? What’s going on?”   
  


As Dennis got closer, Mac’s knees loosened up and he took off. The cold burning his lungs and tears wet against his cheek.  
  


Fuck.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dennis obsesses over Mac, a little bit too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is unbeta'd 
> 
> All illustrations are drawn by me, if you would like to hear me yell and stress about the story over on Twitter, my handle is 0hillien. The story's beats have been established but it still needs to be written and drawn out.  
> >If you would like to view the image larger, right click "view Image" on browser and it'll bring you to the larger size.
> 
> \----  
> Dipped my toe into researching about coming out in the Catholic faith to get a deeper grasp on Mac, I really hope I didn't butcher anything!
> 
> And of course,  
> Thanks for reading!

“Mac?”

  
  
  


Heart pounding in an effort to break loose, Dennis had to take a moment to catch his breath, leaning against the brick building. Shit, it was hot. The drugs and commotion had fueled his body far beyond what he had bargained for that night. Overstimulated. His blood stirred, a rush to the system, kicking him into gear. His anger rose.  
  


“Mac? What’s going on?”   
  


Dennis could feel the sweat. Beads gathering at his temple and trailing down, sticking to his skin, making him itch. His head was weightless while everything else desperately reminded him of reality. 

Fuck.  
  


That moment on the ice flashed against his jumbled mind. Anguish etched into every pore, coloring Mac grey in the wreckage, forced Dennis to stop. He stopped and stared, the announcer, the stadium, even the players surrounding them faded into white noise as Dennis watched Mac fight sobs that overtook his body.   
  


It came rushing back the moment Mac was pulled away, the voices came back, loud and clear. Everything was happening at once, crawling up Dennis’ spine, his mind hyper aware of every touch the players gave him trying to push him off the ice, back to the growing crowd.  
  


He fought his own mind as he elbowed his way outside and into the cold air.   
  


FUCK.   


  
  
“Mac! MAC! Where are you going?! HEY!” Dennis screamed out, letting the blindingly hot rage take over. “Don’t run from me!! Hey!” 

  
A quick chase led frighteningly nowhere as Dennis struggled to keep his body coordinated enough to follow. “Goddamn it, GODDAMN IT!” He stomped down, ripping his jacket off and crumpling it up in his fists. The heat was suffocating, clouding his already addled brain. “What is going on!?”   
  


The wind crackled and waved, tangling his sweaty curls, answering him in the most unsatisfying way. Empty silence. Mac ran off after beating the shit out of his own teammate, leaving Dennis severely confused. 

**[Dennis] Hey, get your ass back here**

Dennis waited, his energy redirected, crippling him. His body felt exhausted, throat numb, skin prickling, buzzing with anxious energy. Just if he had another hit, he could go after Mac, figure out what dorm he stayed in. Figure out what the hell was going on.  
  


Instead, Dennis walked back to his apartment in the bitter cold, sobering up. 

  
  


\-------------------------------------

  
  
  
  


The tapping of nervous boot heels echoed through the empty pews. That late at night, Mac found himself sitting in the back of Our Lady of Victory, two rows in, with only the drunks and fellow sinners for company. He counted six others, two of which looked to be sleeping, leaning against each other for support. Mac bit into his lip and chewed in thought.   
  


The silence fell heavy on his shoulders, inside the church he was greeted with the feeling of being watched. The statues peered down at him, judging in a way only the guilty felt.   
  


God didn’t like him to be with men. It was sinful and seeing his father in the crowd, standing next to Dennis, reminded him of that. The epitome of what a man should be, strong, disciplined and in control next to temptation. God’s plan, his faith in Mac to choose the right path for himself.   
  


Failing Mr. Reynold’s class the first time around should have been Mac’s cue, two semesters back. But he needed the credit and watching Dennis teach for another four months didn’t sound so bad. Getting Dennis to say  _ yes _ was euphoric. Yet, that was the problem, wasn’t it? Sin was enticing, that’s why they called it temptation, Mac reasoned.   
  


_ Love cannot be born in a swamp _ . The priest would comment every Sunday during mass. Despite his father never going and his mother sitting in the back, Mac grew to learn the stipulations of getting into heaven. If the priest, the closest connection to Jesus implied that it was wrong, then it was.  
  


Mac’s leg bounced, jittering in an uncontrollable beat. He rubbed at his face, combed through his hair, fretted with his phone before finally pulling his legs up and tucking his head between his knees. Hung in shame.  
  


“My God, I am sorry for my sins with all my heart. In choosing to do wrong and failing to do good,” Mac whispered to himself, hunkering in and hooking his body closer. “I’ve sinned against you, whom I should love above all things…”   
  


His phone chimed next to him for the second time since arriving at the church.   
  


_ Dennis.  
  
_

It had to be. God was sending him a sign. Mac unfurled just enough to flip his phone open.

**[Dennis] Hey, get your ass back here**

New Message:

**[Dennis] Apartment’s unlocked**

Mac was exhausted. Every ache left by each bruise and cut, reverberated in his soul reminding him of the numbing pain. Penitence. He stayed tucked into the back pew, two rows in, long after everyone else left.   
  


All he could do now was make up for his sins with good deeds. Good deeds like helping his father financially and supporting the family. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


\-------------------------------------

  
  
  
  


Mac wasn’t there on Saturday.   
  


Suspended due to his unruly behavior, Mac's coach clarified for Dennis during the first intermission, remembering him from the night before.  
  


“He didn’t tell you?” The man questioned, quite rudely, he noted.   
  


Dennis shook his head. He was too drained of energy and fucks to waste time with such a meathead, already losing interest in the guy if he couldn’t help beyond counter-interrogating him. The coach was useless, “No, he didn’t tell me!” Dennis snapped as he turned to leave.   
  


What a prick. So what, so what that Mac just ran off and didn’t answer any of his texts.   
  


Charlie waited at the exit, wrapped up in his green jacket and baggy pants, beanie over his head and a scarf around his neck, “What’d he say?”  
  


Ignoring Charlie, as they walked outside Dennis caved in to the consuming urge to locate Mac. He dragged his phone out of his pocket and rechecked it for any new messages. No messages. The volume was turned on high, silent mode off. Dennis had tripled checked. He still felt paranoid that there was something there.   
  


“He’s probably hiding out in church.” Charlie commented, patting down his jacket pocket, “Do you want some glue to hold you over?”  
  


“No, I don’t want glue- er, at church?”  
  


“Yeah, Mac’s like, super into religion. Very Irish Catholic.”   
  


“No… kidding.”  
  


“Are you sure you don’t want any glue, man? I brought the primo kind.”   
  


“No, I don’t want any glue, Charlie. Hmmm, but I could use a cigarette,.” Dennis groaned, patting down his own jean pocket for the packet of Marlboro Reds he had stashed away.   
  


By the second period the sun had started to set, casting the campus in a golden glow as the two started walking, leaving the stadium behind. No point in watching the game when the only reason either of them would be there was gone.

  
Dennis quickly lit his cigarette, offered Charlie, who declined and tried to suss out what had happened.  
  


“Does he… snap? Like, just, going to town on someone?”  
  


Charlie hummed in thought, uncapping his glue bottle and taking a whiff, “Yea, dude. Major anger issues, but it’s cool. Just let him run out of steam.”  
  


Dennis glanced over at Charlie, “And how long have you two been buddies?”  
  


“Oh, since elementary school, man.”  
  


“Charlie, I’m gonna ask you something-”  
  


“Mac’s gay.” Charlie answered before Dennis had a chance to finish.   
  


They reached the campus arboretum, Charlie pushing passed the gate and walking inside as Dennis processed what he heard.   
  


Catching up, Dennis questioned, “Did he tell you?”  
  


“No, but you can tell. So, did you two bang yet?” Charlie’s phone vibrated in his pocket bringing both their attention to the clunkiest phone Dennis had ever seen, “Oh, speaking of. Look who’s calling.” Charlie held out his phone to show three letters, bold, on his screen. M A C.  
  


“Gimme that!” Dennis tried to snatch at the phone but Charlie was too quick, darting out of the way and answering, “What’s up, buddy!”  
  


Charlie started walking again, following the path between the trees as he listened to Mac. Dennis reluctantly trailed after him eager to grab the phone again.  
  


“Wait? No, Dude, I haven’t seen your dad. I was," Charlie dragged out, "at your game. You got suspended! Badass!”  
  


Dennis rolled his eyes, only able to hear Charlie’s side of the conversation.  
  


They walked for a bit longer, weaving around and heading back the way they came. Dennis wondered if Charlie knew where he was going, or if he just followed his feet. The cellphone gave away nothing as they strolled along. Dennis was only able to spy bits and pieces as the two chatted, Charlie was far from being helpful.   
  


“No, man, can’t. Yea, he’s here.” Charlie turned to look at Dennis, “I don’t care. Why are you whining? No, here, talk to him.”   
  


Dennis nabbed the phone the moment it left Charlie’s ear, “Mac? Mac! Hey,” Dennis tried, pushing the phone closer to his ear to hear clearer. But there was nothing, just silence, and then the dial tone.  
  


“Goddamn it.” He snapped the phone shut and shoved it into Charlie’s chest, “Hung up.”  
  


“I can see that.”   
  


In his frustration, Dennis threw down his long forgotten cigarette, stomping it out, “He’s so frustrating.”  
  


“He’s going to the Halloween parties.”  
  


“What?"  
  


“Yea, asked me to go with him, but I work on Wednesday.”   
  


The two of them stopped, spotting a bench and in silent agreement, went to sit down. Charlie fumbled with his glue bottle, offering it to Dennis, who took it. He inhaled deeply, “Does this even work?”  
  


“Of course it does!” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


\-------------------------------------

  
  
  


Mac wasn’t in class on Tuesday. The desk in the back remained empty during lecture. Taunting Dennis as he trudged his way through their newest lesson about Psychoanalysis and Behaviorism. Mac would have benefited from it, Dennis mused bitterly, unable to keep up his pleasant persona.   
  


His mind whirled, swiping through different scenarios for tomorrow. Unlike today, where Dennis was stuck in the classroom, Halloween came with the promise of meeting up. In some college frat party, Mac would be waiting and unbeknownst to him, Dennis would be there.   
  


Ready.  
  


Ever since Mac waltzed into that office, Dennis couldn’t stop thinking about him. Their meetings together increased from a few times that first week to practically inseparable. Equally so, their habits effortlessly formed in such a way that now, after three days of being cut off, Dennis was going insane. Mac should be in class, he should be planning their dinner for tomorrow night, not refusing to text back.

  
Wednesday could not come sooner.  
  


\-------------------------------------

  
  
  


On Halloween night the neighborhoods were buzzing with furious activity. Folks in costumes flooded the sidewalks. Dennis hastened his pace, dodging trick-or-treaters in favor of making it to Greek Row before the parties were inevitably shut down. The Bowie costume he wore doing little to ward off the chill of the night air. At least his face was on point, a classic Ziggy Stardust era with the golden sphere and red lip. The zipper on his spandex suit pulled down just enough to allude to his more favorable assets.  
  


Mac better be there.  
  


Instead of hunkering down for a nice night of slasher flicks and popcorn with his new boy-, toy, Dennis waltzed right into Delta Omega Lambda fraternity like a proud alumni. Then avoided the framed photo of passed pledge brothers like the ashamed and insecure adult that he actually was.   
  


Chugs dicks. They even wrote it in sharpie!   
  


Savages.   
  


The party was already in full swing as he made his way through the thong of co-eds. Three speakers were blasting out the latest and greatest while in the back yard the fraternity kicked it up a notch with a DJ and beer pong.   
  


Every room was packed with twenty-something year olds, already sloshed and singing the chorus of Wild Ones. The group near the hall tried to pull Dennis in, arm swung out, ready to bring him closer but he was able to dodge, fixing his wig as he went. Once Wild Ones switched over to One More Night, Dennis was able to snag a red solo cup from the kitchen successfully avoiding drunk conversations. Thankfully, it was already full with jungle juice.   
  


Hoping for a better night, he chugged the drink and went back for a second.  
  


At least they weren’t wrong about his talents.   
  


By the third drink, Dennis spotted him.   
  


Mac.   
  


Standing near the stairs. Cargo pants and tank top, jacket tied around his waist and a backpack slung up on one shoulder, Mac was chatting with a tall brunette dressed as Walter White. She wore the coverall suit and even sucked on blue rock candy, staining her mouth. That bitch was hot, at least a seven and a half, why was she talking to Mac?   
  


“ _ Try to tell you, No. But my body keeps on telling you, Yes _ ," the students sang out around them.  
  


Mac leaned in, looking up, eyes wide, licking his lip. He joked and she laughed, shaking her head. She pulled something out of her breast pocket and slid it into Mac’s cargo pants. Mac grinned.   
  


“ _ Try to tell you, Stop. But your lipstick got me so out of breath. _ ”  
  


The two shared a breath, Mac working something out of his bag before handing it over to her. Her face lit up, snatching the baggie then grabbing Mac’s face and kissing him. Contrary to how enthusiastic she looked, Mac’s body showed how awkward he felt. He kissed, mouth open, tongue out with all the grace of a teenager as she took the lead. His arms hung, unable to do much else as his body leaned away from her. It looked painful. Dennis watched the disaster with growing frustration.  
  


“ _ But baby there you go again, there you go again making me love you _ .”  
  


Before Mac had time to really get into it, Dennis swooped in, caught Mac’s arm and dragged him up the stairs leaving Walter White to find a new make-out partner. Mac, in his confusion, held onto his bag and followed, feet tripping over each step.   
  


“Hey! Asshole! I was about to get laid!”  
  


They made their way up the stairs, Dennis shouting at the guy about to use the restroom to leave and shoved his way inside instead, hauling Mac along.  
  


“What? With her?” He scoffed, locking the door. The bathroom was nice, the kind with double sinks and a bathtub unattached to the shower.   
  


“Fuck! Mr. Reynolds?”  
  


“Mr. Reynolds,” Dennis parroted, twisting his words, “Don’t Mr. Reynolds me! Mac. What the hell, man! What was that whole weak ass speech about dating if you were just going to act like a little punk?” He turned and shoved Mac against the counter, hands balled up into fists.   
  


“Leave it,” Mac struck back, holding onto the faux marble top. “It was a mistake.”   
  


“Mistake?! A mistake? Movie night? Dinners at Guigino's. Mac, those weren’t mistakes. You can’t keep doing the same thing hoping to get a different result.”  
  


“Shut-up, shut-up! Goddamn it!”  
  


“What’s wrong, Mac? Can’t take the heat?! Getting too hard? Gonna fail at this too?”  
  


“Shut-up!”  
  


The music muffled by the bathroom door, drifted away. Only the beating of his heart echoed in his ears as Dennis hovered close, his breath hot against Mac’s face. Inviting him in. Intoxicating. He boxed Mac against the sinks, arm on either side and shoved a thigh between Mac’s legs, rocking, “Why was it a mistake, Mac?”  
  


Heat built rapidly, warming up his skin as Mac tried to stay focused. He could vaguely hear a new song playing, Rihanna, he thinks as the lyrics vibrated along the wall.   
  


_ It's the way I'm feeling I just can't deny _ .   
  


He missed the way Dennis swallowed him whole, making him feel powerless to stop the flood. Drowning in his own increasing need to hold on. It wasn’t so bad, confessing, sitting in the empty church repenting. He even did his good deed for the night, his backpack almost empty, providing for his family.  
  


“Do you want to be with me?” Dennis whispered against his ear, nosing along his neck, down to his collar.   
  


Mac shuttered, wrapping his arms around Dennis and gripping at his neck unable to answer. His throat refusing to form the proper words.  
  


“Do you want to be with me?” Dennis tried again, inching back just enough to take in Mac. His flushed face was hypnotizing, swaying closer.  
  


“Yea,” Mac swallowed and tried again, “Yes, please.”   
  


At the affirmation, Dennis tore off his wig, and quickly worked the suit’s zip down his chest. Mac mirroring Dennis, worked his own jacket from his waist getting to his cargo pants. He yanked the belt loose and shoved them and his briefs down passed his knees, one leg able to pull out, boot and all.   
  


“What are you supposed to be anyways?” Dennis asked, working his arms out of the sleeves and shimming the suit passed his hips.   
  


“Dutch, from Predator, you know-”  
  


“Arnold Schwarzenegger? Yea, I got it. You need to tack on more mass,” Dennis tsked as he nudged closer, hands at Mac’s waist urging him to get up on the counter.   
  


Between the two of them, Mac was able to successfully arrange himself on the countertop, legs wrapped around Dennis’ waist pulling him in closer. “What about you? You look like a whore,” Mac nipped at Dennis’ bottom lip, tongue following. The awkwardness forgotten.   
  


“I’m David Bowie, you uncultured swine!”  
  


“Are you sure?” Mac huffed, clawing at Dennis’ shoulders, trying to get them closer. The thighs around Dennis squeezed, forcing him into the counter. He could feel how full Mac had gotten, smearing pre-come against his belly.   
  


Refusing to answer, Dennis took the moment to reach out, searching the counter top for something, anything, that they could use. There had got to be something, it was a fraternity after all.    
  
  
“Fuck, c’mon, lube, lotion, I’ll take oil at this point,” Dennis muttered to himself, pulling open drawers.   
  


Mac held on. Overheated and fueled, he reached down, tracing his fingers against Dennis, as much as he could reach. The touch ghosted the side of his cock, a promise.  
  


“Soap?”  
  


“I’m not using soap,” Dennis snorted before grabbing a hold of a rolled up tube. “Ah! Yes, just enough.”  
  


Mac let his arms drop, easing back and leaned on the mirror, letting his ass drop past the edge, “Mr. Reynolds,” He groaned, his mind emptying.   
  


Dennis coated his fingers while Mac spread his legs out further, curling in on himself in an effort to keep on the counter.   
  


Knowing they didn’t have time to waste, Dennis rubbed against Mac’s hole. “Relax,” he murmured leaning down and capturing Mac’s lips. Smearing his lipstick. Open mouthed, and desperate, Mac kissed back. He threw his arms around Dennis’ neck once again as he felt the first finger slip in, willing his body open.   
  


The finger turned into two as Mac’s asshole quickly loosened thanks to Dennis’ continued efforts. Fucking into him, pushing his knuckles passed the ring of muscle and scissoring Mac in time to the music that thumbed around them. The slick between his fingers easing his way in.   
  


Using the rest of the tube of lube, Dennis slathered up his cock, pumped it a few times then held it in place and pushed forward. Fuck Mac was still tight.   
  


Mac panted, hips jerking against Dennis’ hand, forced to stay in place, “Ahh,” he gulped, trying to take in more air than his lungs were capable of.   
  


Dennis rocked roughly, working his way in before slipping back out. Mac choked back a cry, frantically holding on once Dennis shoved in, snapping his hips and forcing Mac harder onto his cock, both hands gripping at his hips.   
  


There was a pounding at the door. Shouts from party goers trying to get in. Mac buried his face against Dennis’ neck, biting back a moan. The growing crowd only seemed to spur Dennis on.  
  


Mac whimpered, knees quaking and back arching as much as Dennis' weight on top of him would allow. Dennis thrusted in and pressed their foreheads together. Mac’s body pulsed around his aching cock, driving him into a frenzy. He fucked him furiously, the pounding of fists keeping his rhythm going.   
  


They kissed. Mac’s tongue dragged against Dennis’ lips, tasting the wax coating before sucking at the bottom lip in an effort to quiet himself. Dennis bucked into him, blood buzzing with excitement. His body was sticky with sweat, making it harder to hold on to.   
  


Mac grabbed at Dennis' curls, tugging his head down and kissing him deeper. Dennis swiveled his hips, changing angles and hit home. 

  
Mac cried out, squeezing down on the cock inside him. Keeping quiet was lost in the waves of pleasure rippling through him. Fire pooled low in his gut. He dropped one hand between them and worked his own dick, Pre-come smearing easing the friction.   
  


“Mr. Reynolds,” Mac shuttered, “fuck, Dennis.”  
  


Dennis rode out each wave, chasing his own release. The shock waves caused his mind to blur, losing his pace.   
  


Feeling his cock swell with need, Dennis pulled out, slapping Mac’s hand out of the way and lined them up. He kept pace, dragging his cock along Mac’s rubbing the slick between them. Mac, desperate to get off, grasped them both and jerked his hand. Dennis bit down against Mac’s lip, adding his hand to the mix.   
  


Together they stroked and rutted into their fists, Mac could feel his toes curling, belly tightening, “Dennis, I’m gonna-”  
  


“That’s it, baby,” Dennis licked down Mac’s throat, sucking at the juncture. “Come for me, baby boy.” He bit down causing Mac to snap his hips up, trapping their cocks as he came. Dennis groaned, jerked his wrist faster. He dropped his head against Mac’s chest. His body going tense as his own release shook him. Come coating Mac’s torso and shirt, sticking them together.  
  


The world staggered, time slowed to just the two of them. It was fine, This was fine. Mac lifted up onto his elbows, kissing Dennis, easing his tongue in. They kissed for a moment, letting the chill air cool off their bodies.  
  


“Well, you got laid tonight.” Dennis grinned against Mac’s mouth as the world started spinning again.  
  


“HEY! STOP FUCKING IN THERE. PEOPLE NEED TO PISS!” The pounding of furious fists grew louder and more hurried.   
  


“Okay! Okay! Shut up! I heard you the first time,” Dennis yelled back pulling himself away from Mac.   
  


He reached back behind them for one of the towels hanging on the hook and began to clean them up. Mac sat in silence, staring down at his belly, stained in come.   
  


“Hey, you good?” Dennis asked, tossing the towel and working his suit back up and tucking himself away.   
  


Mac dropped from the countertop, forcing his boot back into his pant leg and making himself decent.   
  


“Hey,” Dennis grabbed Mac’s arm, tugging him back.   
  


Mac chewed on his lip, lost for a moment, “Yea.” He scooped up his jacket and backpack and unlocked the bathroom. “I-I gotta go.”   
  


As the lock clicked, the door was swung open, students peering in to see who had caused the hold up. Mac hung his head and forced his way through the crowd leaving Dennis behind.   
  


“Mr. Reynolds?” One of the students asked, recognizing him without the wig, “what are you doing here?”   
  


Dennis turned and sneered at the group gathered by the door, “If any of this gets online, there’ll be hell to pay!” 

  
  
  
  
  


\-------------------------------------

  
  
  
  
  


“ _ If any of this gets online. _ ”

“ _ If any of this gets online. _ ”

“ _ If any of this gets online. _ ”

Dennis sat, slumped in his office chair the next morning rewinding and playing back his bastardized auto-tuned voice. Of course, some kid found it a challenge to fix it up, slap on a beat and post it.  
  


“ _ There’ll be hell to pay! _ ”  
  


Goddamn hooligans, Dennis inhaled deeply, held it in, then slowly released, urging his body to relax. It kept tight, skin prickling as the song repeated again, ringing between his ears.  
  


“Knock, knock, Mr. Reynolds?” A tall homely man walked inside forcing Dennis to mute his computer. “We need to talk,” The Dean of Social Sciences began. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dennis confronts Mac.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays everyone!
> 
> Thanks for reading. Two more chapters left.

  
  


“Dee, you goddamn, gangling, bitch! Dee!”   
  


Why in the world was the Art Department so hard to navigate? For fuck’s sake, did they really need to split the building? Pavilion Theatre, Eisenhower Auditorium, and Dennis had to find out from a very nervous freshman he threatened that there was even a theatre building in downtown Philly. That goddamn bird, of course she’d pick the worst major to work for. Couldn’t they have been sensible, why were there so many stages, plays shouldn’t be that popular. It was Ridiculous.   
  


“Dee! I re-ally need to speak to you” Dennis called out through the halls, peeking into classrooms. He was practically running to catch his sister before his next class began.   
  


Thursdays were a sacred time where the two were able to part ways and pretend they were the only child until Friday. It was Dennis’ favorite pastime, imagining a world without Dee in it, unfortunately, reality came knocking on his door.   
  


“Dee, You dumb-”  
  


“I’m right here! What do you want, you turkey? Can’t you see I’m busy?” Dee squawked, leaning out of a set of double doors that led into one of the smaller stages on campus.   
  


“You gotta stop buying coke!” He rushed out, pushing her back inside the auditorium and peering over her shoulder. Confused students mingled on stage behind her.   
  


“Oh My God! Dennis, hush!” She snapped, grabbing his arm and hauling him to a more secluded corner. “What are you talking about? Did you get high without me?”  
  


“What? No! They’re onto us, Dee.” Dennis, wide eyed and sweaty, chanced a second glance around the stage, it seemed the students didn’t care what was happening and went back to their practice.   
  


“Calm down! Jesus, who’s onto us?”   
  


Dennis recalled back to his meeting with the Dean of Social Sciences, walking Dee through their brief yet concerning conversation.   
  


The Dean had trapped him in his office that morning, turned and shut the door claiming that the department had a serious issue on their hands. Drugs. More and more students were showing up to class manic, overly energized, and disruptive.   
  


“It’s that damn crack again.” The Dean tsked, leaning his hands onto Dennis’ desk, inching closer, “We need to get a handle on this problem before it gets out of hand. I remember back when you were still a student and all the hip kids were doing it, I need you to keep an eye on these students. Talk to them about the dangers of addiction.”   
  


The man took a moment to take in the items littering the desk, familiarizing them. _That asshole wasn’t going to find shit_ , Dennis thought to himself. He made sure his sister kept their stash. He was not going to get fired over a silly thing like drug possession. That was an amateur move. Something Dee, ungraceful as she was, would do.   
  


“Of course, sir. I’ll keep my eyes out for any dealers on campus.” Dennis reassured the Dean, tilting his chair back and away. “You can count on me.”   
  


Dee starred at Dennis, her brows dropped, unimpressed, “So what? It sounds like a you problem. We’re fine over in the Visual Arts. What have you been doing? Sharing is not caring, Dennis.”   
  


“Fuck you! Just- Just stop buying from that guy, okay! I need to think and I can’t have that lummox looming over my shoulder because you can’t keep your drug addiction under control!” Dennis hissed.  
  


“What?! MY DRUG ADDICTION,” Dee stage whispers, remembering the students around them, “Look who’s talking, ‘I need coke more than anything else in this entire world,’ Dennis.”  
  


“Shut your beak, you dumb bitch!”  
  


“You shut up!”

“Ms. Reynolds? There’s a problem with the lighting you rigged up, I can’t figure it out.” A shorter student, with a mess of curly hair stuffed into beanie and an oversized hoodie, had ventured over to them, hands shoved into their sleeves, rubbing their hands with anxious energy.   
  


“Yea, okay,” She shooed the student away before pointing at Dennis, “Fix this!”

  
  
  
  
  


\-------------------------------------

  
  
  


Because the day couldn’t get any worse, Dennis trudged into his classroom eight minutes late, forehead damp and out of breath. His talk with Dee and subsequently getting lost for the second time in the Visual Arts Center lead to him barging into a classroom filled with talk of ‘absent teacher, and after _15min_ we can leave.’  
  


“Don’t you dare leave,” Dennis managed to get out as he tossed his satchel onto his desk and took a moment to catch his breath, dragging a hand through his hair. Gotta keep it coiffed to perfection, even when he was a sweaty mess.   
  


“It has come to my attention that there is a drug problem,” He began. “Addiction is very serious, and if any of you feel the need for additional help, the school has a counsellor for that.” And, don’t come to me, went unsaid.   
  


Mac, Dennis noted, sat hunched over his desk, staring past Dennis at the wall behind him. His head rested in one hand and his knee hammering away at the floor. He looked distracted more than usually and refused to pay attention. Dennis scowled, remembering their brief liaison last night. Mac still sported the bite mark, visible due to his low cut shirt, or was it stretched out of shape? It was hard to tell when Mac wore his old, tattered clothes.   
  


Dennis needed him to pay attention.  
  


“With midterms over and finals coming up, it’s hard to stay focused, however drugs are not the answer,” he continued giving the bare minimum answer. A shallow, meaningless speech when really he was nose deep into the stuff. “Isn’t that right, Mr. McDonald?”   
  


Dennis watched as Mac shot him a look.   
  


_That’s right, I’m right here_ .  
  


“Yes, Mr. Reynolds. Drugs are bad,” Mac mimicked as the students laughed defusing the tenseness that fed into the air.   
  


Relenting for the moment, Dennis retreated back to his lesson plan for the day. Mac disrespectfully kept to himself throughout class. His backpack tucked under his legs and desk absent of his textbook and note paper, Dennis’ voice drifted. Lost in his whirling thoughts. God. Hockey. Fathers. Psychology looked like a waste compared to the bigger issues.   
  


Even then, Dennis still tried.  
  


As class let out, Dennis called out, “Mr. McDonald, a word?”  
  


“Sorry, professor,” Mac grabbed his bag, “I got hockey practice.” And with that Mac left, leaving Dennis stewing over the reality that Mac’s hockey practice wasn’t for another 3 hours.   
  


Dennis spent the rest of the day on edge.

  
  
  


\-------------------------------------

  
  
  
  
  
  


With Thursday out of the way, Dennis ditched Friday. He sent an email to the main office, stating how he was under the weather and to give a heads up to the students. More like a storm raging overhead, but they didn’t need to know the details. Instead of spending his lunch talking smack with Dee, he sat alone in his apartment, a twelve pack of beer already wasted.   
  


His skin itched with old habits forming, but Dennis ignored them. The school was already sniffing around his office. He needed to be safe.  
  


Instead he took an abnormally long shower later that day, having lost motivation halfway through and just stood there debating the merits of murdering Mac before washing away the conditioner still left in his hair.   
  


The buzz of the beers fading, Dennis checked the clock. Mac would be heading out on the ice, the game having started.   
  


He needed another drink.   
  


A distraction. 

  
  
  


“Hey, Asshole.”  
  


Heart sinking, Dennis peered up from the pile of quizzes scattered on the private, two seater table. Jackie, red, angry bangs perfectly styled and a matching frown, stood over him, his chai in her hand. By drink, he meant his favorite mug of tea, a treat to try and salvage the evening and a welcomed distraction. In the café he could concentrate on more important things than imagining Mac leaning against his couch, or in the bathroom figuring out the best way to flex to show off the maximum volume of muscle. His apartment proved to be detrimental.   
  


And so Dennis tucked himself away in the back corner, away from most of the regulars that had set up camp. He was ready to force his mind away from the drugs and sex. Instead a welcomed menial task to put his mind at ease.  
  


He looked back down at the top quiz, tapping his pen on the tabletop. “What do you want, Jackie. I’m busy.”   
  


“Why are you here?” She interrogated, placing the mug down on the only open area not covered in paper and folders.   
  


“I’m getting a large chai and working, what does it look like I’m doing?”   
  


“No, I mean, why aren’t you at the hockey game.”   
  


Dennis’ expressions wavered, confused at her inquiry. How the hell- “How do you know I go to hockey games on Friday?” He glared up at her as she slid into the seat across from him. “I don’t even like hockey!”  
  


“‘Cuz you’re with Mac, right? I haven’t seen you with anyone else except him. Awfully gentlemanly of you.”  
  


“You know Mac?” Dennis narrowed his eyes. Jackie didn’t seem to care, she flicked through the quiz papers, meddling in Dennis’ work. The café was relatively empty at the moment, the evening rush having just ended. The game would be in its second period by now with the sun barely making it below the horizon.  
  


“He was in Psych 101 with us, don’t you remember?”   
  


“No.” He tried to snip, jerking the papers away from her and organizing them in a neater pile. “I was not aware.”   
  


“Doesn’t surprise me, you don’t seem the type to really get to know anyone,” She leaned closer, “‘til now.” Jackie’s eyes sparkled in the most concerning way. Dennis felt trapped as he took a sip from his mug. She continued, “You’ve brought him in here for the past month. Didn’t think you had it in you, ya’know, to be a decent human being.”   
  


Shit. He hadn’t realized.  
  


Dennis sat his drink down, “Do you have a point or are you blowing smoke again. It didn’t work in class and it’s not going to work now.”  
  


“I’m just saying, whatever it is, work it out. Hate to see you prowling the halls looking for young girls to prey on again.”   
  


“I thought you were going to give me like sage advice. Finding true love or some bullshit.”   
  


“Is it love?”  
  


Dennis didn’t have a compelling answer, “Shut-up, you’re just a barista, what do you know?”  
  


“Says the guy with multiple allocations against him.”  
  


“Get back to work.”   
  


“Go apologize.”  
  


“I didn’t do anything!”  
  


“Do you want to be right or do you want to be alone?”  
  


Jackie had a point. Mac filled a void in Dennis that he didn’t even realize he had and that damn idiot was trying to pull away. He had to decide what’s more important, being right or actually working out the issue. Dennis didn’t like to admit when he faltered, convinced himself that he enjoyed the quick bang and tossing the conquest, yet, being around Mac, even waking up with someone else in his bed, didn’t feel as horrible as he had imagined.  
  


Goddamn it, he needed to do something.  
  


“I need this cup to go,” Dennis hurried, pulling the papers and folders back into his bag.  
  


“No, I’m not wasting a to go cup on you, just drink it then leave.”  
  


Dennis stared at her, the audacity she possessed was astonishing. Whatever. He gulped the drink down, refusing to break their mutual glare, “Fine,” He snapped, shoving his bag strap onto a shoulder and walking away. If he tried to walk to campus, he’d get there too late. He’ll just have to circle back to his apartment and take the Range Rover. Besides, with it taking five minutes, he could catch the last plays of the evening.   
  


Who knows, Mac could score a goal.

  
  
  
  


\-------------------------------------

  
  
  
  


Between last Friday and today’s game, Mac proved to be quite successful going back to his old dealing ways. The campus was huge and it turned out there was a large demand for stimulants within the Humanities and Social Science buildings.   
  


Ditching Dennis, was less so. Mac found his first addiction, chasing the high his professor gave him after every encounter. _Don’t get hooked on your own product_ , his father drilled into him, but Dennis wasn’t his. Dennis came from a different place, a place that wasn’t South Philly, and wasn’t from the broken neighborhoods Mac grew up in. He bought cashmere sweaters, dined out in fancy Italian restaurants and touched Mac openly, fondly.   
  


Luther stood outside the stadium, away from the crowd, counting the loose bills and bundled up wads of cash Mac had collected. Mac hovered nearby, staring up at his father, waiting. His body instinctively leaned closer imagining words his father would never voice. 

_Good job, Son._

_I’m proud of you, Boy._

_Very well done._

“You know, there are conditions to my love, son. You haven’t met them, but you’re heading in the right direction.” Luther soothed Mac’s restless nerves. Giving him that ounce of hope needed to keep him inline. “There’s a package waiting for you at the house. Don’t disappoint me.”   
  


With that, Mac was left alone grasping onto the smidgen of love he earnestly wanted his father to possess.   
  


“Okay, Dad!” He called out. “Love you!” He tried. Luther was steadfast in his exit, not bothering to acknowledge Mac’s attempts to engage with him.  
  


Mac headed back inside. The locker room was sober, players keeping away from Mac, hushed tones speculated over his previous behavior. Even Twelve and Twenty-One refused to engage and gave Mac the cold shoulder.   
  


Coach pulled him aside. Mac would be benched for the game unless absolutely needed. His outbursts were going to get them banned and he was lucky no one got badly injured. The coach reminded him that his skills were limited and easily replaced if Mac didn’t get his shit together soon.   
  


Throughout the grilling, Mac kept quiet, fists tight and knuckles white. Those jabronis would never understand.  
  


“Got it.” He ground out. Conditions, rules, stipulations, all stacking up and bearing down on him. God, he was tired. 

  
  
  
  
  


\-------------------------------------

  
  
  
  
  


Parking was atrocious. Dennis had found himself circling the garage three times before a vehicle pulled out for him to take. Home games were always packed to the brim. He hastily got out and made the journey across campus to the Ice Pavilion with minutes left in the game.   
  


The stadium was packed, the crowd boomed loudly at a successful pass and began to chant the count down. Dennis didn’t bother to take a seat, instead he made his way to the boards and searched for his new favorite number, fourteen.  
  


Mac sat on the bench, biting his thumb and watching as his team tried to score. They were losing by a point and with the clock so close to time, it looked like a solid victory for the opposing team. Dennis paid little mind to the action on the ice, instead he pushed his way around the crowd to get to the bench.   
  


The buzzer sounded and the audience erupted into madness. The Lions lost. Just as Dennis finally made it, his own voice lost in the chaos, Mac took to the ice. Both teams congratulating each other for a game well played. 

Fuck. 

Dennis sucked in, agitated. His body was knocked about by overzealous fans pushing their way to the front. Shoulders bumping and hands shoving, Dennis couldn’t stand the excitement. He’d have to wait for Mac outside by weaving his way back up stream.  
  


Except, Mac didn’t show.   
  


After the audience distributed and the players made their way out of the locker room, Mac wasn’t there. His ratty jacket and mess of dark hair was nowhere to be found.   
  


“Where is that goddamn idiot?” Dennis muttered to himself, fixing his coat and scarf and peering over the heads of players by pushing up onto his toes. One of the players stopped, he looked no worse for wear than any other, in a varsity jacket with the number twenty-three on the sleeve and a lion symbol on the breast pocket. Oh, yea, Mac’s team then.   
  


“You’re here for McDonald?” The guy asked, shifting his weight, hands tucked into his pockets.   
  


“Yeah,” Dennis reluctantly answered. “Is he still inside?”  
  


“No, he told Coach he had a family emergency at home or something and left right after the game.” Twenty-Three shifted again, looking around the empty campus, most of the people left mingling were far enough away not to hear them. “You were the one on the ice, last Friday, huh?”  
  


Dennis narrowed his eyes. Jesus Christ, how many snot nosed brats were going to give him love advice. “Look, I don’t need you snooping around, got it!” Dennis barked. “Leave, you are no use to me.”   
  


The player looked startled for a brief moment, “Look buddy, I was just trying to help,” he said before taking off and leaving Dennis alone.   
  


So, Mac was at his parents’ house.   
  


Unfortunately, Dennis didn’t know where that was exactly. Mac hardly ever mentioned an address outside of South Philly. Oh, but Dirt Grub would know. Charlie, Mac’s best friend since childhood would have to know where Dennis could find Mac.   
  


Dennis pulled out his phone and scrolled through the contacts before it dawned on him that he didn’t, in fact, ever get Charlie’s number. Annoyed, he pressed open the internet explorer tab and quickly Yahoo searched _Worst Bars in Philadelphia_ . One of them was bound to have a weird, overly excitable janitor.   
  


Turned out there were more than he imagined listed and he had to amend the search to bars only in shadier parts of town. What with the overly toxic smells wafting off Charlie, Dennis would bet real money that no bar in a nice neighborhood would ever hire him. No, only the ones in desperate need.   
  


After visiting the first two, the third looked promising. It was on the far end of one of the streets, a corner building with factories nearby. It felt vaguely familiar but Dennis couldn’t put his finger on why. He parked his Rover on the street, made sure to triple check his locks worked and headed inside.   
  


Oh fuck, it was somehow worse on the inside. A grumpy looking man with a full beard and a leather vest greeted him as he went through the door and over to the bar. The place looked grungy and poorly put together with a few booths on one side and a handful of standing tables. Toward the back there was a pool table and jukebox.   
  


“Uh, bottle of Stone?”  
  


“We have Bud or Bud Lite.” The man replied, wiping the counter where Dennis leaned against.  
  


“Eeer, Bud then.” Dennis corrected himself and took in the residence. Definitely a homeless man in the far booth with a hand down his pants. A couple that looked on the far end of forty had a game of pool going with another man, and finally a tired looking waitress standing at an empty table, head propped up in her hand and her serving tray pushed to the side. She stared at the tv tucked in the corner of the room, so small that Dennis hadn’t noticed it at first.  
  


“Wow, nice place you got here.”   
  


“It’s for sale if you’re looking to buy.” The man took in Dennis’ fancier peacoat and loafers.  
  


“Ah, hmm, not at the moment, I’m looking for someone. A janitor by the name of Charlie? Messy looking guy- about yaa-y high,” Dennis tried to measure out how tall Charlie was compared to the bartop.   
  


“What do you need Charlie for?  
  


“We have a mutual friend.”   
  


“Buy another beer and I might just go fetch him.”   
  


It took five more bottles before Charlie emerged from the basement, bat in hand and an ungodly stain down the front of his shirt. He grabbed two bottles from the bartender before slipping into the bench opposite of Dennis.   
  


Grateful, Dennis took one of the bottles, already feeling loose and warm. The place wasn’t so bad after his fifth beer.   
  


“So,” Charlie dragged out, “You wanted to see me?”   
  


“Yeah! You know where Mac lives! I need him.” Dennis whined, making a swiping gesture and grabbing at the air. “I need him, Charlie and you can help.”  
  


“Well, that’s awfully rude of you,” Charlie leaned away from Dennis’ hand, taking a sip of his own beer. “You came all this way to see me and not even a ‘how are you, Charlie?’”  
  


Dennis pouted, taking a heavier swig of his bottle, “How are you, Charlie?”   
  


The grumpy old guy from the bar had walked over and sat down two more Buds. The guy had Dennis' credit card with a tab open, the more Dennis drank, the more he could charge. And now with Charlie, double the price.   
  


Both Charlie and Dennis finished their bottles and worked their way through the next one. Dennis could feel his nerves loosen and slip. The desire to grab onto someone, touch them, grew stronger. He tried to listen to Charlie’s explanation between the different paints the bar had, and something to do with rats or a king of rats, however it proved to be a fruitless effort.   
  


“Charlie,” Dennis tried, head on the wood surface, “Where’s Mac?” He was on his eighth beer by that point, the reassuring buzz turned to a needling desire as his patience wavered.   
  


“Gross, dude, needy much?”   
  


Dennis groaned and buried his face into the crook of his arm, curling his bottle closer. “Charlie,” Dennis sulked, “Tell you what, buddy, I’ll come back, yeah? I’ll come back and listen to whatever it is you do here. Bashing rats? Crabs? Sewer tokens, all of it, but ya gotta give me Mac’s address.” Dennis tried to bargain, lifting his head up to see if it worked.  
  


Charlie took in the wager, nodding along, “Okay, sure, dude. I keep your credit card, though.”   
  


“What? No! It’s not even in your name. How are you going to use it?”  
  


“Use it? I’m gonna hold onto it. Like collateral.”   
  


“Hmmm, fine! Okay, keep it! I have another one anyways.” Dennis pushed off his seat, wobbling on weak knees and grabbed onto the counter top.   
  


“Can you drive?”  
  


“Of course! Who do you take me for? A freshman? HA! Now gimme, gimme!” Dennis let go just to wave his fingers at Charlie, “gimme!” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


\-------------------------------------

  
  
  
  
  


“Stop ignoring me! Does Mac live here or not?! The fucking, eer, it says McDonald right there on the mail slot.”  
  


Out of all the things Mac dreaded going back home to, it wasn’t Mr. Reynolds yelling at his mother, who sat on the porch, smoking and listening to her shows as he raged over her.  
  


Mac quickened his pace, “Dennis. Dude, you gotta stop! Sorry, mom, sorry! Don’t mind him.” Mac grabbed onto Dennis’ arm, pulling him closer and away from his mother. Dennis reeked of stale booze and whatever Charlie usually wore. “Shit, are you drunk?”  
  


“It doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter. Mac! Baby-” Dennis was cut off as Mac slapped a hand over his mouth and forced him inside, away from prying eyes and open ears.  
  


“Shhh!” The house looked empty, most of the lights turned off to save on electricity. Nothing looked disturbed or misplaced from what Mac could see. The only thing new was an open box sitting on their small kitchen table. Mac had to ignore it for now and guided Dennis along the hall into his old bedroom.   
  


“What are you doing here, man?” Mac gave a final push into his room and shut the door only for Dennis to turn around and grab a hold of his face. Fingers traced over his jaw and cheek. Dennis had a hard time keeping his gaze, his blinks becoming slower as he took in Mac’s face. Flushed from the winter air.   
  


“Mac,” He cooed before kissing him. Pushing Mac up against the door and molding his body to fit.   
  


Mac slipped his arms around Dennis holding on. His own sober mind shuddering at the relief he felt from their embrace.   
  


He opened his mouth and let Dennis slip in, sucking gently and rolling their tongues together. Dennis groaned moving one hand down and hooking onto Mac’s jacket.   
  


The door in the entryway abruptly closing startled Mac. He jerked his face away from Dennis, ear pressed to the door, listening. Heavy boot steps could be heard trudging inside, heading into the kitchen. To the table, most likely.   
  


“Shit, shit!” Mac manhandled Dennis away from the door and toward Mac’s closet. The closet was flung open and Dennis shoved inside, drunk and confused, Dennis tripped over the items scattered around and fell with a loud bang, probably breaking more than a plastic toy. “Don’t move!” Mac hissed and shut him inside just as his own bedroom door swung open.  
  


“Ah, you’re home. I wondered when you’d be back.”  
  


“Uh, went to the church on campus, ya know, praying to God,” Mac offered, “and stuff.” He turned to look at his Father who had stepped into his room.  
  


“Good. Good. Keep that up, don’t want you to go to hell, now do we?”  
  


“No! Definitely not!” Mac’s thoughts swirled, mixed, and tangled into an anxious mess as he fought his need for validation and the burning necessity of getting Luther out. “You said there was a package? I- I don’t think I saw it,” Mac lied.  
  


“Ah-ha, no. You wouldn't have.” Luther calmly stated, a fact he truly believed. He glanced at the closet for a moment before turning and leaving Mac who rushed to shut his door. _Weird encounter_ , Mac thought but felt thankful that Luther hadn’t wanted to continue.  
  


“Mac,” Dennis called once he heard the door close, “Mac, I was already in the closet before. I don’t want to go back in. Mac!”  
  


“You’re a whiny, little, bitch.”  
  


Dennis huffed lifting both arms up and wiggling them in front of Mac’s face as he was let out. A demand to be helped up.  
  


Mac grabbed onto him and pulled, putting his back into it. They stumbled for a bit as Dennis tried to get his footing, wrapping an arm round Mac’s shoulder to steady him.  
  


“Says the guy who keeps running away.”   
  


“Shut up, you don’t know anything.”  
  


“Then tell me!” Dennis slapped at Mac’s chest. Head feeling heavy and his mind calming, Dennis moved his hand down and into Mac’s own tugging him toward the twin bed in the corner.   
  


Mac glanced at his bedroom door again. It wasn’t frequent that his father visited him, they were probably alright for the rest of the night.

  
The two climbed onto the lean mattress, Mac’s blankets thrown over them, hiding Dennis away as he pushed back against the wall, grabbing at Mac and pulling him closer and away from the edge. Mac settled, his head resting on the tail end of his pillow and their linked hands between their chests.   
  


“Dutch, really Mac? Predator could never hold a candle to Alien.”   
  


Mac closed his eyes, feeling Dennis squeeze his hand, “Pfft, like hell. The sheer muscle mass alone in that movie could take down that weak ass symbiote any day.”   
  


Dennis inched closer, brushing his nose against Mac’s, “Officer Michael Harrigan or Dutch?”  
  


Mac huffed, his breath ghosting across Dennis’ parted lips, “Dutch. Predator 1 is far superior, who wears a long sleeve button up to save the day?”  
  


“Impractical.” Dennis agreed, swinging his free arm around Mac’s waist and bringing him forward.   
  


“It’s okay. To like Dutch. To want to touch him. There’s nothing wrong with that,” Dennis whispered, holding on tighter.  
  


Mac curled in, tucking his head near their hands and lacing their fingers together.  
  


“It’s okay to be gay, Mac.”  
  


Instead of refuting, Mac held on, in a silent prayer.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pieces are starting to fall into place, Mac in an effort to see the larger picture, takes Dennis to the Rainbow. 
> 
> Chapter Warnings for Explicit Content, Dubious Consent and Drug Use

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is unbeta'd
> 
> All illustrations are drawn by me, if you would like to hear me yell and stress about the story over on Twitter, my handle is 0hillien. The story's beats have been established but it still needs to be written and drawn out.
> 
> >If you would like to view the image larger, right click "view Image" on browser and it'll bring you to the larger size.
> 
> \--------
> 
> For anyone curious, Dennis' personality is heavily influenced by the first season of the show, where he's more free with his affections and touch.
> 
> And of course,  
> Thanks for reading!

The next morning arrived with a growing comfort settling in Mac’s chest. The blankets were pulled just enough that the bed generated plenty of warmth to form a cocoon for Mac to escape into. He buried closer to Dennis, tucking his nose against the other’s neck and just breathed. Dennis rested, spooned against Mac, head cradled in the crook of an elbow, sleeping away his hangover. Normally, Dennis was the first awake. It was a rare treat that morning for Mac to see him so peaceful.   
  


He pressed his lips against Dennis’ shoulder before wiggling himself free. Dennis groaned and turned into his stomach, pillow folded to replace Mac’s arm. Dennis rubbed his check and nose, taking in the scent that lingered in Mac’s bedding then curled in closer to the wall.   
  


Mac watched. He reached out and traced along a shoulder blade, dipping lower to follow Dennis’ spine.   
  


After a while, the combination of their coats, shirts, and blankets became too overbearing and the two stripped out of their clothes before settling back in that night. Their discarded jackets in a pile beside Mac’s mattress. Now Dennis’ bare back was on display for Mac’s enjoyment.   
  


As tempting as it was, Mac pulled himself away, swinging his legs over the edge and reaching down to grab his shirt. Once it was pulled over his head, he made his way to his bedroom door. It took a moment to register that they were in his childhood bedroom, in the house he shared with his parents- his loving parents who still believed they were raising a very straight son.   
  


Mac hesitated, hand hovering over the doorknob when Dennis muttered into the pillow, “Mac, I need Advil, and coffee. Coff-ee.”   
  


Shit, “Okay.” Mac sent a quick pray, hoping everyone else was still asleep and ventured out.  
  


The house was as quiet as a McDonald household could be. The television was brought back inside and set in the corner, still turned on and playing a black and white rerun. The sound was low enough that a soft murmuring could be heard in the hallways. The flashing of the screen lit up the living room and cast a glow into the kitchen, Mac turned just before to head into the bathroom.   
  


A quick relief, teeth brushed, and Advil secured, Mac settled in, leaning against the sink. His reflection stared back at him. His bruises had finally faded away, and he could see his stubble growing in, it still hadn’t grown in thick enough to warrant a cool beard, but soon.   
  


Dennis wasn’t meant to come back to this house. Jesus Christ, what did his mother even think. Some strange guy yelled at her as she rested from a long day's work who was then yanked inside… and didn’t leave. Fuck. Mac knew his mother stayed up late, preferring to nap where she sat. She would have noticed someone leaving, right? Maybe he could play it off and say Dennis left extra quietly.   
  


That’d work.   
  


Following up with a quick shave, Mac finally left the bathroom, Advil in hand. Lost in thought and eyes glued to the carpet, he hadn’t noticed anyone else up until he flicked on the kitchen light.  
  


Luther sat at their kitchen table, the package still sitting in the same place as before and a newspaper spread out in front of him, “You’re up early.” He drew out.  
  


Sitting in the dark, not creepy at all.  
  


Mac jumped at the unexpected voice, nearly dropping the pill bottle, “Goddamn it! Dad! Wha-what are you doing up?”  
  


“Oh you know, getting a head start on the day. Nothing like being the early bird. You know how the saying goes.”  
  


“Yeah,” He didn’t. Something about worms that never sounded appealing. Instead of engaging further, Mac wandered over to their coffee maker, an old thing that Mac remembered from childhood and started prepping for a pot. He poured enough grounds to fill the container then added the water. How much would Dennis need to recover with? Better make the full pot, Mac reasoned.  
  


“That’s quite a lot of coffee, son. Plan to drink it all?”  
  


Mac moved just enough to block the coffee maker from his father’s view, “Uh, figured you’d want a cup. Freshly brewed!” He turned, hands gripping the counter as he took in his father.   
  


Luther was flipping through the newspaper, taking his time. Eyes unblinking in the unnerving way that Mac could never replicate. No matter how often he tried, his eyes always ended up watering and instead of looking like a badass, Mac looked like a sobbing mess.   
  


“A cup, for your old man? Good good, don’t forget to make one for your guest,” Luther gazed up at Mac, no longer interested in the news.  
  


“Wah-I-uh. Yea, no, she-” Mac tried to come up with something, anything, but it was way too early in the morning and his brain stumbled for a coherent thought.   
  


“Dennis Reynolds,” Luther hammered home, nailing him in place. “Crack addict,” he mused, finally moving a hand to the box on the table, fingers tapping along the side. “Not how I would get customers, but I can’t blame you for the mark. He’s a regular of mine, you see. Can’t get enough with a hand in Daddy’s pocket.”

Wait.

What.

Dennis was an addict? When did he have time to do drugs? And he got them from Luther. Luther knew who Dennis was? Dennis went to Luther for cocaine? 

When? 

How? 

Did Dennis know who Mac was from the beginning? Was that the real reason he said yes?  
  


Luther watched his son’s face travel through the unexpected information. Journeying from confused, angry, disbelief, and outrage before finally Mac looked back to Luther, silently questioning him under furrowed brows.   
  


“I knew I could count on you,” Luther chuckled, manipulating his son. He stood up and pushed the box closer to Mac, “It should be easy, draining him of Daddy’s money. You picked well, son.”   
  


And with that Luther left, folding up the paper and taking it with him as he headed out the front door leaving Mac utterly conflicted.  
  


The coffee maker beeped. It finished brewing, filling the house with a welcoming aroma, strong enough to attract Mac’s guest, who had staggered into the bathroom as the front door closed.   
  


Banging could be heard followed by Dennis rattling through the medicine cabinet, “Mac, Advil? Alieve? Anything?” Dennis moaned out making too much noise for Mac’s frayed nerves.   
  


“I have it,” Mac called out, snapping out of his daze and hurrying back into the bathroom. Dennis hung his head over the sink, cool water running as he panted out, headache already in full swing. “Here, man. Take these.” Mac thrusted two pills under Dennis’ face wiggling them to get him going.  
  


Dennis dipped down to get a mouthful of water before grabbing the pills and swallowing them. He clapped Mac on the shoulder in thanks, but more in the effort to steady himself. He swayed, moving his arm around Mac and held on for a brief second. “Remind me not to drink with Charlie. How can that kid drink so much and be fine?”  
  


“He’s way younger than you?”  
  


“Shut-up, my age has nothing to do with this.”  
  


“What were you doing drinking with Charlie?” Mac asked, helping Dennis into the kitchen and dropping him into the seat left by Luther.   
  


“I was,” Dennis emphasized. “Looking for you.”  
  


“Well, that was dumb.” Mac commented, putting a fresh mug of coffee down on the table by Dennis.   
  


Dennis hummed, “you’re dumb.” He shot back easily.   
  


“We only have milk based creamer,” Mac informed his guest as he placed his mother’s Irish cream down, “you whiney bitch.”   
  


Dennis couldn’t hold back his laugh, snorting into his coffee which forced him to set it back down. “Fuck, ow” He groaned, rubbing his forehead. “C’mere, asshole.”   
  


Mac was yanked down by a hand around his wrist, unprepared for the kiss Dennis gave him. As Dennis let him go, Mac finally took a seat, looking around the kitchen for a distraction.  
  


“Let's go out tonight. Like to a club or something.” Mac suggests eyeing the open box on the table. It was impossible not to think about what his father had said. He’d have to test it out. See if Dennis really just wanted the drugs.   
  


“To the Rainbow?”   
  


“The fruity bar off Locust st?”   
  


“Yea, has the best DJ, plus they’re the only bar in town that gives discounts to dudes.” Dennis said, closing his eyes and taking a sip of coffee. The bitterness waking him up enough to functionally add in cream.   
  


“Yea, dude, let’s party at the Rainbow. We can go after the game, get a taxi and stuff.” Noticing Dennis distracted, Mac snatched the box into his lap and folded it closed. It was relatively small and contained small baggies dimed out for easier purchase. His father’s doing.   
  


Mac eyed Dennis, fingers tracing the cardboard, maybe his father was wrong.   
  


Or maybe he was right, looking out for his son, guiding Mac back onto the right path.   
  


Dennis glanced up, hunched over his coffee with both hands circling the warm mug. “What’s up, asshole?” He murmured without any heat.  
  


Mac shook his head, smiling in an effort to ease his own racing heart. “Nothing. You look hot when you’re raggedy and hungover.”   
  


“Bitch, you know it. I’m never not hot.” Dennis hummed, satisfied and went back to drinking his coffee.  
  


They stayed in the kitchen for a while, chatting over what movies to rent and which restaurant they should try next week for date night. Ms. Mac never ventured into the living room which led Mac to assume she already left for work In a couple more years she would be able to officially retire and spend more time at home.   
  


With the house empty, Mac relaxed significantly. Enough to make them breakfast, eggs and toast. Dennis refused his eggs and only ate a slice stating that Mac needed the extra calories for his game. That made sense. And so he ate both their shares.  
  


The two mingled around longer than probably necessary. During their shower together, they had forgotten about the shampoo left in Mac’s hair when they started making out only for the soap to slide down into Mac’s eyes and caused the whole experience to last until the water turned cold. They quickly dressed into their old clothes to ward off the chill left on their damp skin and got ready to head back to campus.   
  


Mac even made sure to stuff his jacket pockets with the extra product before catching up with Dennis in the Range Rover.   
  


Saturday flew by. Dennis had parked back at his apartment telling Mac that he needed to get ready for their night out while Mac walked to his dorm. There were a few students he knew who’d need another fix and he could spend the rest of the time planning a way to subtly talk to Dennis, probe him into telling the truth. Plus the gym and practice. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


\-------------------------------------

  
  
  
  
  
  


The game turned out uneventful. Mac got to play snippets in the first two periods and sat out the third. They lost by two points and weren’t able to recover in time. The players still gave him a wide birth and refused to engage further than a few snip remarks. Twenty-Three seemed to want to say something but decided against it.  
  


It was alright, Mac had way better plans that night than whatever his team was going to do.  
  


With the help of Mac’s youthful face and Dennis slipping the bouncer a nice crisp hundred, his only one, the two made it into the night club without a hassle or their IDs checked. Mac had to confess that his fake ID was left in his dorm back on campus. It was way too late for them to catch a cab back so instead they played on Dennis’ charm to get them into the Rainbow. It helped that Mac wasn’t bad to look at either.   
  


They checked their coats, Mac having moved the drugs into his dickies and headed straight for the bar. Charlie still had Dennis’ credit card, putting a damper on their ability to binge, however Dennis convinced Mac to hang back and let him flirt his way into getting them drinks for free. He only had a few twenties left in his wallet and that’d have to do for now as his checking account was sadly lacking.   
  


Mac found himself standing awkwardly between the bar area and the dance floor, bouncing to the thumping music with his hands shoved into his pockets. Making sure not to blow their cover as Dennis shamelessly flaunted himself to the barkeep, Mac kept his gaze out on the dancers.   
  


Men in sequence tops and tiny shorts danced their heart out. And with the sheer amount of bodies that night, wearing pants seemed like overkill. Mac was glad he opted to wear a tank instead of one of Dennis’ sweaters.   
  


Dennis maneuvered his way around happy bodies, sliding up against Mac. He pushed up close, molding his chest against Mac’s back and dangled two tall colorful glasses in front of his companion, “Guess who got luck-y” Dennis sang, wiggling one of them for Mac to take.   
  


“That didn’t take very long.”   
  


“When you’re a Greek god like myself, it never does.”  
  


“I didn’t know you’re Greek.”  
  


“A figure of speech, c’mon drink up! The guy mentioned Go-go dancers are supposed to come on any minute and I want to get a good spot!”   
  


“Go-go?”   
  


They squeezed their way through the throng of people. Their sweaty bodies bobbed and slid across Mac, covering him with glitter, “uh - gross, dude.” He muttered feeling himself get hauled along by Dennis.  
  


“Hurry up, I can see them.” Dennis yanked Mac in, looping his arm around Mac’s waist and slipping his fingers in a back pocket. Mac glanced over, tongue wrangling his straw back into his mouth to hide his embarrassment of Dennis’ obvious claim to Mac’s ass. He might be late to the gay scene, but even straight people did that.  
  


Dennis quickly looked over, gave a wink, before settling in for the show that was about to start.  
  


They had gathered close to the center of the club, three podiums were set up with accompanying poles and boys to decorate them. Each man chiseled to perfection and nothing Mac’s ever seen in person. Sure in magazines stuffed under his bed, or online but never so close he could reach out. He couldn’t even remember his teammates looking that hot and they all worked out together.  
  


“Holy shit.”  
  


“Nice, right? Prime-time beefcakes on full display.” Dennis agreed, gulping his own drink and ignoring the straw.   
  


“I-uh. Are they always this slutty?”  
  


“Always!” Dennis gleefully said turning as a guy with an empty glass passed by them. Faster than Mac could catch, Dennis had stopped the man and thrusted his own empty glass into the guy’s other hand. “You’re heading to the bar, right? Be a doll and take this, would ya?” The man looked like he wanted to argue but Dennis gave him a push and slapped him on the ass. ‘Go on!”   
  


The man grumbled, _asshole_ , under his breath but left the two of them.  
  


“Nice,” Mac had to admire Dennis’ skill. He really could get anything… Even drugs off his dad. The dime bags sat heavily inside Mac’s pocket, burning a hole the longer they stayed out on the dance floor. If he didn’t offer now, he never would.   
  


Mac reached into his dickies, thumbing along the plastic, lost in his own mind when a group of dancers bumped into him. His drink splashed out, shocking him into trying to cup the liquid with his other hand. The momentum of pulling his hand out of his pants caused one of the little baggies to slip out and onto the dance floor.  
  


“Shit, sorry!” Someone in the group tried to apologize but Mac shook his hand, cutting them off.  
  


“It’s fine, it’s fine!” But it was too late, Dennis had already snatched up the baggie before Mac had a chance. He latched onto Mac and shoved him away from everyone, the back corners were filled with more bodies forcing him to drag Mac into the ladies room.   
  


Mac glanced around, noting how empty and pristine it was before being shoved into a stall.   
  


“It’s a gay bar, not many lesbians like to hit the dance floor at 11 o’clock at night,” Dennis answered Mac’s silent question.   
  


Dennis locked the stall behind him and opened his hand between them, the bag of coke sitting pretty in his palm.  
  


Mac stared down at it, “we can share.” Mac offered before Dennis could voice his own concerns. “I-I got more, too. Right? That’s what people do in clubs?” He tried to play ignorant, a ploy that worked most of the time and he knew he did well. He prayed Dennis would tell him no, but from the look on Dennis’ face, that wasn’t going to happen.  
  


“Yeah, hell yea, baby!” Dennis hooked his arm around Mac, one arm pulling him in by his neck while the other held onto the coke. “As long as we’re quick we can do it in here.”   
  


“What about security cameras?”  
  


“Not in the ladies room anymore. Something about it being creepy.”   
  


“O-okay.” Mac nodded and followed Dennis back out to the long counter of sinks.   
  


“A line per thirty minutes and we won’t need to drink to have a good time.”   
  


“Why don’t you use that? I -I have another.”   
  


Dennis looked over his shoulder at Mac, who was hanging back behind him. “Where did you get this anyways?”  
  


“On campus. Some guy’s been selling them.”  
  


“Shit. Shit. Fuck, the dean was right. Goddamn it.” Dennis shook his head, opening up the bag and making two lines. He snorted the first then offered the second line to Mac who shook his head and showed his own bag.   
  


Mac moved over to the counter, opening the bag and making a show of pouring some out. Dennis took the opportunity to take a second hit as Mac leaned down, head blocking Dennis’ view, and blew his coke into the sink. As he got up, he made a point to make noise. Huffing and panting and rubbing his nose in a mimicry of what Dennis had done moments ago.   
  


“Fuuuck, baby!” Dennis pushed up from the counter, swiping his hand to brush away any remaining evidence just in case someone walked it. “It’s gonna be a good night, fuck the dean. That mousy little man can suck my dick.” He grinned as his movements became more manic. “Let it sit, it’ll kick-in in a few. Let’s go back out. C’mon, C’mon!”   
  


Mac was pulled out of the bathroom and back into the crowd of people that only seemed to grow larger. His heart raced as he watched Dennis’ cheeks brighten and his skin become more flushed. By the time one song ended and another started, Dennis’ pupils were blown wide and he seemed to have the hardest time keeping still.   
  


Dennis glistened among the array of party animals. His green, low-cut, shirt complimenting the curve of his body as he danced. Mac felt hypnotized by the swag of Dennis’ narrow hips and slotted them together, grinding. Dennis grinned and reached back, gripping Mac’s tank.   
  


“Baby,” he cooed, dipping down then sliding his way back up Mac’s body. The beat changed and Dennis swung around, arms resting on Mac’s shoulders, forcing his thigh between Dennis’ legs before grinding down.   
  


Fuck. His dick twitched enjoying the attention.  
  


Mac’s throat felt tight as he groped Dennis’ backside and dragged him in closer. Their mouths met, an open invitation. Dennis was soaked, sweating through his shirt and dampening his curls but Mac didn’t mind, he just gripped tighter, shoving his tongue in, feeling Dennis’ own need to match in ferocity.   
  


The two were left, in a sea of bodies, humping and gyrating to the beat of the drums. Mac could feel other men pushed up against him, back to back, rubbing and thumping. The lights flashed and started strobing, casting everyone in black light. There were squeals of joy and glow sticks being flung onto the dance floor afterward.   
  


Dennis broke apart, lacing their fingers together and making his way back into the ladies room. He seemed to have trouble breathing, taking in large gulps and holding them in.   
  


The alluring of dancing starting to fade, Mac quickly moved Dennis to the sinks, turning one on. “Drink!” He insisted.  
  


Dennis obeyed, wheezing when he tried to take too much in all at once.   
  


“Fuck, tonight is great.” Dennis grinned, eyes shut as his brain softens, warming his mind into a pleasant buzz. “Do you still have any left?” When he opened his eyes again, Mac swore the blue had vanished.   
  


“Yea, dude. I got more-”   
  


Dennis moved, faster than a man out of breath ought to, pressing up against Mac, using his body to sway Mac to walk back into one of the open stalls.   
  


“Good, good,” Dennis murmured, moving a hand to cup Mac. “You get that, and I’ll-” He rolled his palm, fingers kneading along Mac’s growing erection.   
  


“Den-”  
  


“Shhh, I’ll make you feel so good.” Dennis purred, out of it.  
  


Mac watched as Dennis sunk down to his knees, working Mac’s zipper down and nosing against his boxer-briefs, mouth open and tongue hot against the growing bulge.  
  


He lapped at Mac’s clothed erection, sucking and working Mac into a whine. At Mac’s whimper of more, Dennis rolled back his underwear and pulled them down his thighs, letting Mac’s cock bob hard and heavy, smearing pre-come against his cheek.   
  


Dennis licked the underside, folding his tongue to drag up and around the crown before dipping down and taking the head of Mac’s cock into his mouth. Mac groaned, feeling his knees buckle. He reached out to steady himself against the stall while the other held up his tank, giving Dennis the space he needed to work.   
  


Mac was rewarded when Dennis wrapped one hand around the base of his cock and worked it in deeper.   
  


“Ah! Ah, Den,” Mac bit back, closing his eyes before forcing them open again. Dennis was gorgeous, even with his mascara running and lip-gloss smeared across his face. Dennis looked up in that moment taking Mac down until he could feel Dennis’ throat constrict. Swallowing.   
  


“Fuck! Ah!” Mac felt weak, his body overheating. He moved his hand and grabbed onto Dennis’ curls as the other moved up hollowing his cheeks as he went.   
  


Mac shuddered, brain foggy with desire feeling the pressure against his perineum when Dennis slipped his hand between his legs. Jesus Christ he wasn’t going to last.  
  


Dennis looked back up again, his eyes unfocused and worrisome. His forehead was drenched and skin feverish. He looked more sick than not. Mac had done that.   
  


“Shit. Den, Dennis, you gotta stop, man.” Mac pleaded, gripping his hair and gently pushing him away. Dennis let his dick slip out, drool still connecting them.   
  


“Was I bad? I can do better!” Dennis tried to reach back but Mac squatted down before he had a chance and held onto his face.   
  


“Hey, buddy, let’s get outta here.” Mac rubbed his thumb against Dennis’ chin, gathering up the saliva and wiping it off on his own pants.   
  


The door to the backroom opened letting in a gaggle of women, their voices echoing off the walls, chatting away about the latest song or boy, or whatever it was women talked about.  
  


“Shhh, Den.” Mac pressed his finger to his mouth before trying to shimmy back into his underwear and dickies, his erection starting to fade.   
  


Dennis seemed to perk up at the sound of others on the other side of the stall and started to get up, but whatever he was about to do Mac grabbed him and yanked him down. They stumbled back and landed hard on the toilet.   
  


“Hey? Are you okay in there?” One called out, concerned.  
  


Mac slapped a hand over Dennis’ mouth and tried to pitch his voice higher, “Oh Yes! Yes! Just drunk. Calling a cab now.” He tried to laugh, but his voice dropped midway and he had to cover with a cough.   
  


Dennis wiggled in his arms, probably hurting from the fall however Mac wouldn’t let him go until the girls left them alone again.  
  


“Ma-c, I love an audience! Think of the potential.”   
  


“C’mon. We can call Charlie and your sister, you can dance for them.”  
  


“I don’t want to suck your cock in front of my sister! Ew, gross dude!”  
  


“You’re not going to- UH! Okay, fine, let’s go. Up you go.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


\-------------------------------------

  
  
  
  
  
  


Mac did end up calling Charlie at one in the morning and was able to get Dee to promise to come over straight away, after she went back to sleep.   
  


He’d have to tell them. It was getting way too out of hand and Mac felt like he was drowning with no one to hold onto. Dennis’ sister should know about his addiction. They needed to get him help and Mac needed to find a way to get his father off his back.   
  


“Dude, what’s he doing?” Charlie asked from the security of Dennis’ couch as the other flung himself around the living room in a cheap rendition of Rick Astley.   
  


“He found the rest of the coke and… I couldn’t get it away from him in time.” Mac slumped down next to his friend, arms folded across his chest as the two of them watched their own private performance of _Never Gonna Give You Up_ .  
  


After the fifth encore, Dennis collapsed onto Mac, looping his arms around Mac’s waist and burying his face into his lap. Charlie grunted as he was left with Dennis’ squirming legs.  
  


“Dude! I didn’t sign up for this!”  
  


“Hush, Charlie. Just… Let him sleep.” Mac sank deeper into the cushions, combing his fingers through Dennis’ hair and stared off.  
  


“Is this really want you do with your professor? Man, fuck school.”  
  


“Ha! Haha, yea, fuck school.” 

  
  
  
  
  


\-------------------------------------

  
  
  
  
  
  


By eight in the morning, a loud, insistent pounding at his door woke Dennis. The sound reverberated against his skull sending waves of pain down his body. Coursing through his veins, leaving him weak and tired.  
  


“No, go away.” He mumbled into the couch cushion, hoping that if he didn’t get up the sound would stop.   
  


A cool rag was placed over his head and someone was gently coaxing him to turn around.   
  


Ah, Mac. What did they do again?   
  


“Hey-y, Dennis? I need you to sit up, buddy. I got some Advil for you. C’mere, that’s it.”   
  


Dennis followed Mac’s voice, rolling over to face the other who was crouched down, hand rubbing at his temple.   
  


“Can you sit up for me?”  
  


“Oh, Don’t baby him! He’ll walk all over you if you start that shit.” A loud bird interrupted, kicking the back of the couch and peering down at her brother.   
  


“Fuck, go away Deandra!” Dennis rolled back onto his stomach, face pressed.  
  


“No can do, buddy! You’re boy,” This she made sure to stretch out as long as possible, “friend called me and demanded I come down at once! Oh, but look at you, poor baby.”   
  


Mac glared up at Dee, “This is serious! Dennis has a serious addiction!”  
  


“Does he? An Addiction? Are you addicted?” She gleefully moved back into the kitchen, and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge.   
  


“Shut up, big bird!” Dennis muttered as Mac pipped up at the same time.  
  


“He’s been getting high off my father’s coke.”   
  


A hush fell over everyone in the room. Dee let the fridge door close on it’s own, while Charlie hung back near the bathroom confused over why the twins were staring at Mac with such utter disbelief. It was common knowledge that Mac and his dad sold drugs, wasn’t it?  
  


Dee’s eyes seemed to bulge as her mind processed what was said. “Wait! WAIT! The burger clown is our dealer’s son?! So, you must be charlie!” She exclaimed pointing over towards the bathroom, “Dennis you couldn’t have picked a better student to bang.”  
  


Mac blinked, looking from Dee to Dennis then back to Dee, “What?”  
  


Dennis groaned, swinging his legs over the edge of the couch before struggling to sit up, “What are you talking about?” He held his face, rubbing at his temples. Mac offered the Advil again and this time Dennis took them.  
  


“You know my father?” He questioned, watching Dennis.  
  


“I guess,” He murmured, “We used to buy shit from some guy on campus years ago… Dee, Dee found out he was back in town.”  
  


“Released from prison!” Charlie helpfully supplied.  
  


“He’s- your father? Man, that sucks.” Dennis recalled back to the hockey game when Luther had stood near him, scaring the shit out of him.   
  


“Shut-up,” Mac shot back. “He wanted me to, to, take your money. He knows we’re-”  
  


“Together?” Dennis offers looking up at Mac from his hunched position.   
  


“Ah, maybe?” Mac honestly didn’t know if his father suspected anything beyond the idea of Mac dominating Dennis in bed.   
  


Both Dee and Charlie made it back to the couch, Dee sitting next to her brother while Charlie sat on the ground.   
  


“What are we going to do?”  
  


“I don’t know. My dad’s gonna wanna know why so much of his stash is gone and I don’t have any money.”  
  


“I’ll ask Mom,” Dennis wiggled his hand at Dee, “Give me your phone, Dee. I’ll call mom, she’ll give me whatever.”   
  


Charlie leaned in, curious, “Your mom will just give you a wade of cash?”  
  


“No, she’ll give Dennis a wade of cash,” Dee corrected, handing over her phone before opening the water bottle and passing it over as well.  
  


Dennis took a sip, clearing his throat, and handed it back to her as he scrolled through Dee’s contacts for their mother’s number. She should be back in town by now, Thanksgiving just around the corner. They liked to get together and pretend to be decent as their father flaunted his wealth and their mother didn’t even try to hide the fact that she was banging the pool boy, or gardener, or whomever was hung and cheap.   
  


“Mommy!” Dennis started, his voice filled with fake cheer. “Mommy, I need help.”   
  


The others stayed silent, leaning in and trying to hear but their mother was cut off and the phone switched over to a deeper voice.  
  


“No, I don’t want to talk to you Frank. Put Mom back on the phone,” Dennis leaned away from the group, his face pinched.  
  


Unlike their mother’s voice, their father’s boomed over the speaker.   
  


“What do you need money for? I cut you off for a reason.”  
  


“You did, but Mom didn’t! Give the phone back.”  
  


“What’s this for? Drugs?”  
  


Dennis stayed silent for a split second too long.  
  


“I knew it! You crackhead children of mine are no good. Why don’t you use what you have to get the money. I never failed with that method.”  
  


“I- I am NOT whoring myself out again, Frank! Not for you or for drugs!”  
  


“You were good at it.”   
  


“I-I was in high school you asshole. Fuck! You know what, no I don’t need your money.” Dennis quickly hung up and tossed the blasted thing away. “We have to think of a different plan.”  
  


Mac looked like he wanted to get into something else, something closer to Dennis and whoring but Dee swooped in, “The Dean already thinks someone is selling on campus, what if we framed someone? Mac you can plant the drugs and then tell your father they were stolen? Do you hate anyone?”  
  


“Shut-up, bird” Mac grumbled, moving to comfort Dennis when Charlie chipped in.  
  


“Dude! Plant the drugs on someone. I don’t think it matters as long as Luther doesn't come sniffing around.”  
  


“You know what, Charlie, you’re right.”   
  


“What, the fuck, guys!” Dee squawked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I threw in my own head canon with Dennis and Frank. In the Gang gets Whacked, Dennis fell into the role of Frank's whore really easily and I don't think that would of been the first time he had done it. I imagine that Frank (and probably Barbara) would insist that Dennis sleep with members of the country club so that their family would gain a higher status. 
> 
> Dennis couldn't say no because of the implications.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang hatches a fool proof plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading this silly AU! 
> 
> This chapter is faster paced than the others ones but hopefully I left enough breadcrumbs in the other chapters to follow along. The ending of this story was one of the first things I thought of when I sat down to write everything out. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Sunday dragged on. Between Dennis’ body shriveling up into a dry husk and the gang bickering about what to do with the growing coke problem, hours stretched out and minutes felt like they were moving backward. Dennis hated it. His skin peppering with the urge to rage and lacking the strength to do so left him unsatisfied.   
  


Worse than blue balls.  
  


He ended up spending most of the day in bed, wrapped up in layers of blankets. Mac tried to play nursemaid throughout the day only for Dennis to chuck shit from the side table at him for making too much noise and disturbing him.   
  


Dee snorted at her brother’s childish behavior and told Mac to, ‘ _get used to it_ ,’ as he was the biggest drama queen when he got sick.   
  


By Monday morning, Dennis' headache hadn’t gone away and continued to throb. He parted ways with Mac agreeing that Mac needed to work with Charlie to plant the drugs on someone while Dennis and Dee worked the Dean angle. He found himself nursing a flask of flavored peppermint schnapps and vodka, not his favorite but left his mouth with a fresh taste as the two walked to campus. Open air is good for the body, as they say.  
  


“You really went hard.”  
  


“I don’t remember much, we were at the Rainbow,” Dennis said pressing the cool metal of the flask against his head as they headed inside the Humanities building.   
  


“You bitch, you went without me?” 

  
“Goddamn it, Dee, Shut up- fuck,” Dennis groaned pocketing his drink to unlock his office. “I think I tried to blow Mac in the bathroom.”   
  


“Gross,” Dee added walking in after him. She settled against his desk, her favorite seat, as he walked around to his chair.   
  


“Whatever, at least I’m getting laid on the regular.”  
  


“Who said I’m not?”  
  


Dennis glanced, trailing his eyes up Dee’s lanky body to make a point about what he saw.   
  


“Oh, you know nothing!”   
  


“HEY OH! Where’s my drugs!”   
  


The twins bolted up from Dennis’ desk at the sound of their father’s booming voice. Gawking at Frank, they watched him stride through the hall down to Dennis’ office.   
  


Dennis made a mad dash to the door but before he had time to shut it, Frank pushed his way in, “Drugs, children!” He wiggled his fat little fingers.  
  


Fake laughter bubbled up as Dennis tried to play it off to the few staff that had come in early, “HAHA doctor drugs! Crazy old man, hahaha, he needs medication, haha” Closing his door and shutting the blinds, Dennis whipped around, hissing at Frank, “what the hell are you doing here?!”  
  


“I gave it some thought, I want to buy your drugs, Dennis.”  
  


“Great, that’s great, lovely!” His temple pounded in protest at the sudden movement.  
  


“No, this could work” Dee chirped looking from Frank back to Dennis then to Frank. “How much you got?”   
  


“No it won’t! Mac’s already off getting rid of them,” Dennis fussed, throwing his hands up in the air to emphasize his point.  
  


“Now why would he do a stupid thing like that” Frank remarked staring up at Dennis, “and who’s Mac?”  
  


“Ronald McDonald,” Dee gleefully supplied, “Dennis’ new boy toy.” She wiggled her eyebrows as Dennis moved around the two and back to his desk, dragging out the flask as he went.  
  


“You’re gay now? Man, you’re becoming more like your whore mother everyday, Dennis.”   
  


He slumped down in his seat and took a long drag, emptying the bottle before tucking it away into a drawer. “I wonder why,” He grumbled to himself, rubbing at his face.  
  


Dee leaned over, “you could call him? Get him to stop?”  
  


A knocking filled the room just as Dennis was about to answer, “Come in?” He called out, shooing his sister off his desk, “Sit, in the chairs, hurry!” His hushed whisper commanded the others.  
  


“Ah, good, there you are.” The Dean popped his head in prior to pulling the door open, “Good Morning Ms. Reynolds, Mr. Reynolds, and-?”   
  


“Frank Reynolds! Hello, hello.” Frank shot up from his chair to shake the Dean’s hand as the Dean and a pair of officers entered.  
  


“Frank! Sit back down.” Dennis snapped, standing up once he saw who else had joined them, “Officers? Hello, good morning, what can I do for you?” He tried to grin through the pain.   
  


“After some careful investigating, it has come to the school's attention that one of your students might be responsible for our problem on campus.” The Dean consulted Dennis. “We were hoping you might know a bit more about it?”  
  


Shit. Fuck. _Goddamn it, Mac, what did you do_ ?!  
  


Dennis huffed, shaking his head, “What? One of my students?” His voice pitched higher as both Dee and Frank watched the exchange. “No no, I would know about that.”  
  


The Dean nodded in concern, “Blinders.” He told the officers, ‘happens to the best of us. You see, Mr. Reynolds,” the Dean goes on to say. “We have it on good authority that you have become close with this student and we’re afraid he might have been using you.”  
  


Frank gasped, eyes wide to play off what the Dean was saying, “Oh, shit!”  
  


Dennis glared at him before looking back at the officers in the room, “this must be a big misunderstanding. I-”  
  


“Mr. Reynolds, have you seen Mr. McDonald?”   
  


Dennis snapped his mouth shut and shook his head. His sister turned around to face him, keeping her face away from the officers as Frank mingled around enjoying the show. Dennis could feel sweat start to bead at his forehead and nervously wipped it away.  
  


“If you do hear from him, please let me know.” The dean insisted, turning around to leave.  
  


“Yeah, yea” Dennis hurried to follow the three out, closing the door as they went. He slumped back against it closing his eyes as the reality of the situation dawned on him.  
  


“Fuck.” Dee stated, turning in her seat.  
  


“Did you at least marry the kid?” Frank asked, digging in his pocket for his blackberry.   
  


“Why would I marry him?!” Dennis demanded, turning to face Frank.  
  


“Spousal Privilege, he won’t be able to testify against you once they arrest him,” Frank stated, his attention focused solely on the phone in his hands.  
  


“What? Frank, why would he testify against me?”  
  


“Aren’t you his customer? He could easily plant the blame on you.”   
  


From the sidelines, Dee chimed in, “I don’t think that’s how Spousal Privilege works.” Both Dennis and Frank looked up at her, shared a glance, then in the same breath commented, “Shut-up” and “Shut-up, Dee.”   
  


“Whatever, turkeys! I’m just saying, if Mac wanted to testify against Dennis, marrying him isn’t going to change that.” She tried to explain but neither man paid her any mind, instead they huddled closer together, Dennis worried and hoping for guidance that Dee just knew their father wouldn’t provide.   
  


“Shit, you think he would?” Dennis asked Frank, suddenly feeling nauseous with anxiety. “He wouldn’t…” He reasoned to himself and began to pace between the door and his desk.  
  


“You better hurry and put a ring on it,” Frank said, pressing the call button on his phone, “I got a guy for that.”

  
  
  
  
  


\-------------------------------------

  
  
  
  


“Pick up, pick up, pick up.” Dennis begged, walking circles in his office, phone in a death grip against his ear.  
  


Frank sat in his chair, watching Dennis pace while Dee took off quickly after the officers left stating that she, ‘ _had things to do._ ’ Dennis didn’t care and gave her no mind, waving her away, muttering, _whatever_ , under his breath as he redialed Mac’s number for the third time.   
  


“C’mon, Mac, you stupid idiot.”  
  


The clock on the wall, a silent thing, clicked incessantly louder as Dennis paced his office. He would glance up after every round to make sure they still had time to spare. 20 seconds passed, 40 seconds - “C’mon, Mac, Pick up!” There were only so many seconds in a minute and only so many minutes before Mac would be dragged away and thrown into jail.  
  


“You imbecile, where are you?”  
  


“A loving relationship you got there, son.”  
  


“Not talking to you, Frank!” Dennis cracked, yelling at Frank just as Mac picked up.  
  


“Hel-lo!” Mac’s voice sang out, he sounded busy on the other side of the line, rummaging through something.  
  


“Mac! Where are you? Get away from your dorm building now!”  
  


“Dude, calm down, I’m not near my room,” Mac huffed, a locker shut in the background and Charlie was saying something that Dennis couldn’t make out. “What’s up?”  
  


“Where are you?”  
  


“The rink. Actually, Charlie had this brilliant idea of planting the drugs in-”  
  


“I don’t care. Get out of there too, they’ll probably check.” Dennis tugged on his hair and bit his lip as he began formulating different, alternate plans of getting the police away from Mac. They could throw him in the back of the Rover and just drive all day, they only had him on speculation, really, that could work.   
  


“Who will check?” The commotion on the other side stopped, Mac’s attention shifting to fully mind Dennis. “Dennis?”  
  


“Shit. Uh, shit” No matter what he tried thinking about, smuggling Mac, having him dawn a costume, or even dying his hair and changing his name, Dennis’s mind kept picturing Mac getting hauled away in cuffs and he drew a blank. Nothing stuck with him.  
  


“Have your toy meet you outside, I’ll get my guy to swing over.” Frank presented, getting out of his chair and opened the office door, “But we better hurry.”  
  


“What?” Dennis looked down at Frank.  
  


“Married! Remember, you gotta marry your boy toy!”  
  


“Yeah, yea, okay.” Dennis agreed, following Frank out of his office, not bothering to lock it after him. “Mac, go outside, near the parking lot by the stadium. I’m heading over there now.”  
  


“Wait, Dennis! What’s going on?”   
  


But before Mac got any answers, Dennis hung up, stuffing his phone into his jeans and hurrying after Frank who was moving far quicker than he’d imagined an old man that squat could do.

  
  
  
  


\---------------------------------------------

  
  
  
  
  


When they arrived, Mac and Charlie were already outside, bundled up in their coats and hoodies. Mac had his hands stuffed into his dickies bouncing nervously while Charlie’s chatter filtered out around Dennis. It seemed like he was trying to distract Mac, but he could also have been on a tangent and Dennis didn’t have the time nor the patience to figure it out.  
  


“Mac!” He shouted, jogging over to the two, Frank following after.  
  


“Dennis!” Mac reached out, grabbing onto Dennis’ arm, his eyes wide with concern and anxious energy.  
  


Dennis grasped Mac’s shoulders, a hand on either side, panting out a “Marry me!” Before gulping in breath. He really needed to workout more, or do less drugs but the gym seemed easier.   
  


“Wha?” Honestly, Dennis’ request warranted that kind of response from Mac but it wasn’t the right time now for push back.  
  


“I’m not gonna repeat myself, Mac.” Dennis shook his head, gripping tighter. “Can you do that for me, baby boy?”  
  


Frank grabbed Dennis’ coat and tugged on it, pointing out to the parking lot as a patrol vehicle rolled up. “We got company. Looks like the marriage will have to wait until we get to the precinct.”  
  


Mac looked passed the others, fear thumping against his chest, “Guys, I don’t like this.”   
  


“Shit, Dennis. Tell them they’re your drugs.”  
  


“What?! Frank, I’m not going to-”  
  


“Who’s that guy?” Charlie asked, moving over to join the group and peering down at the little ghoul of a man.  
  


“He’s my father.”  
  


“Really,” both Mac and Charlie asked in unison, briefly forgetting about the approaching police officers.  
  


“They can’t convict you if they’re not your drugs! It’ll buy your toy more time. Take the fall, Dennis! We can get you guys married in jail.” Frank explained.   
  


“Frank, I hate you! That’s a terrible idea!” Anger began to heat Dennis' skin, turning his face red and about to boil over when the officers approached.  
  


“Ronald McDonald?”   
  


“Yea… That’s me?” Mac looked at them biting the inside of his cheek, eyes huge as he looked back over at Dennis.  
  


“You’re under arrest for-”  
  


Frank slapped Dennis on the back, gesturing at what was happening, “hurry!” He whispered, eyes big to make his point.  
  


“They’re mine! My drugs, they’re mine!” Dennis panicked, pushing Mac out of the way. The officers stared at the group in question, narrowing their eyes. Together they shared a look then shrugged. “Shit.” Dennis exclaimed as both he and Mac were issued a Miranda warning for possession of illegal substance and the intent to distribute.   
  


As the Officers arrested them both and led them back to the police vehicle, Frank and Charlie watched on.   
  


“I guess it’s just you and me, kid. Let’s go save their asses.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


\-------------------------------------

  
  
  
  


Mac reached over and tangled his fingers in Dennis’, well, as best he could, what with their hands being handcuffed in front of them. The two were taken to the precinct and told to take a seat, they’ll be processed soon enough. Mac had never been arrested before and it didn’t seem like Dennis had either as Mac watched the other fret about, muttering to himself, waiting for his father to arrive.   
  


There wasn’t much either of them could do at the moment, _Luther wouldn’t like this_ , Mac thought to himself. At least he wouldn’t be wondering where the drug money went. Mac chewed on his lip looking back over at Dennis’ hoping he had a plan.  
  


The doors flung open. Dennis and Mac looked up when Frank made his way inside, quickly followed by Charlie and some woman whom Mac hadn’t seen before. She was dressed smart in a business suit, wire-rimmed glasses and a seriously painful looking bun that reminded Mac of the nuns at his old catholic school.   
  


“There you two are!” Dennis shot up from the bench, dragging Mac along as the others made their way over. “Who’s this?”  
  


“My guy! From the County Clerk's office.”  
  


“Frank, that’s a woman.”  
  


“Same difference, are we getting you two married or what?”  
  


The woman carried with her a sleek looking black bag and inside she pulled out a clipboard and forms. She looked like she wanted to be anywhere but there and Mac had to wonder what Frank had on her to get her to do his bidding. Must have been huge. “Mr. Reynolds, this is very much unorthodox, I don’t see what the hurry is-”  
  


“Just get them married, will ya?!”  
  


She tried to pass the clipboard over, however between holding hands and not being able to move them as freely as they wanted, neither Mac nor Dennis could grab onto it.   
  


Charlie pushed over and snagged the board, flipping through the papers, “Hold on, hold on! My client has yet to agree to these terms." He played up, "What is this? We need time to look over the terms and conditions. Mac don’t agree to anything until you get a signed alimony agreement.”   
  


Mac frowned, looking at Charlie then the papers. Everything was moving so fast. Charlie was right, he never did agree to this, but marrying Dennis didn’t seem awful. Sure, marrying a man was a sin, but there wasn’t a priest nearby so God probably couldn’t see what was happening.   
  


Dennis let go of Mac and tried to grab for the forms, “Give me that! Frank a pen. If this gets us off the hook, let’s do it. Alimony agreement, pfft, what alimony. Charlie, you still have my credit card.”  
  


“Oh, shit, I do, don’t I?”  
  


The woman passed over a pen from her bag trying to correct, “It won’t annul you of any wrong doings that you’ve done-”  
  


“Leave it!” Frank waved her off, “Hey, gay one, I need you to sign it too.”  
  


“Oh, C’mon, Frank!” Dennis tsked, glaring at his father’s insensitivity.   
  


“What, I’m not-” Mac tried to argue, however Dennis shoved the board into his hand, nodding down to it. He huffed and scribbled his own signature down on the paper. “Are we married now?”  
  


“We have to get it notarized first,” The County Clerk began only to be cut off again by Frank.  
  


“I’ll notarize it!”  
  


“Frank, when did you become a Notary?” Dennis squinted down at his father, who shrugged and pulled out a rolling stamp.   
  


“It comes in handy when I need to Notarize my shit.”  
  


“Oh, hey! Maybe I should be a Notary too,” Charlie pitched in, looking at the group. “What’s better than having one? Having two nuns!”   
  


Mac squinted, confused over why Charlie would want to do something like that, “Do you even know what one does?”  
  


“Pfft, of course!” Charlie waved off Mac, looking to Frank, “It looks like someone needs a refresher on Nuns. You’d think after years of Catholic school, he’d know what a nunnery is.”   
  


Dennis looked like he wanted to start arguing but Mac shook his head, “Let him.” He mouthed and handed the clipboard back to the woman who looked like she wanted to get going as soon as possible.  
  


“Your Marriage License will be sent through the mail in three to five business days. Good day, sirs,” She notified them. “Frank,” Her voice seemed to lose all emotion once she nodded to him before leaving.   
  


“She’s a bitch, but she gets the job done!” Frank commented, clapping his hands together.   
  


None of them paid the clerk much mind when she left. However, the commotion and cry of a large bird entering did catch their attention. Dee bolted in through the doors, passing the county clerk, her face lit with excitement, “You’ll never guess!”  
  


“Not now, Deandra, your brother's getting arrested,” Frank moved to block her from their circle but she wiggled her way back around standing near Charlie.   
  


“Exactly! Dennis, do you remember, eight years ago when our dealer got arrested?”  
  


“Yea, so?”   
  


“Well,” Dee turned around, the timing immaculate and presented the gang with the news.  
  


Luther was led into the police precinct, handcuffed, officers flanking either side to make sure he wouldn’t take off or cause a scene.   
  


“Turns out someone knew who he was before and you know, it’s pretty sad to get arrested twice for the same crime on the same campus, don’t you think?” She laughed as Mac called out.  
  


“Dad! Dad!”   
  


Luther’s eyes tracked over to the group, mouth pinched as he glared silently, not bothering to answer Mac. His son tried to move closer, however with Dennis holding him back and Luther being dragged passed the gate, there wasn’t much time for a family reunion.   
  


“Dad!”   
  


“Wait, does this mean we’re off the hook?” Dennis asked when the officer from before came back to unlock their cuffs.  
  


“Not exactly.” A pleasant, but meek voice clarified. The Dean of Social Sciences stood adjacent from the group, far enough away not to catch anything, but close enough that he didn’t have to yell to be heard. “Mr. Reynolds, a word?”  
  


Dennis looked around, Mac was just as confused and Dee, that bitch, just shrugged, making a face that told him she had no idea what was happening.  
  


“What a day, huh?” Dennis tried to lighten the solemn mood that set in around them. He walked over, rubbing his wrists, smiling his most charming of smiles.  
  


“It has been quite a day, indeed. Mr. Reynolds, are you aware of the website RateMyProfessorXXX?”  
  


Shit. _Not that fucking thing, what could a bunch of mouthy freshman do this time_?  
  


“Errr.”  
  


“It has been brought to the school’s attention that many of our professors have been engaging in unlawful acts-”  
  


Dennis tried to laugh, offering, “Sleeping with students isn’t-”  
  


“Sleeping with underage students is. The sheer amount of allegations against you that have been popping up-” The Dean shook his head, “We will not be pressing charges but you are fired. You have until the end of the day to gather your things.”  
  


At that Dee, shouted out a laugh, doubling over with tears in her eyes. It was bound to happen, Dennis walked a very tight rope when it came to his youthful partners. That stupid turkey had it coming.  
  


“And, you, Ms. Reynolds. Those same allegations are present on your profile as well. The school does not tolerate this sort of behavior from their employees.”  
  


Dennis barked, “Ha! Bitch!” So she was getting laid. Classic.  
  


“Shut up! Asshole!”  
  


Mac made his way over, moving to grab a hold of Dennis’ hand in support only for the Dean to address him next.  
  


“Mr. McDonald, due to the nature of today’s… excitement, you’re expelled for carrying drugs with the intent of distributing them.”  
  


“Fuck, dude.” Mac blinked, pulling Dennis back to the bench and sitting down.   
  
  
The Dean didn't bother sticking around after delivering the new.  
  


Dennis starred at the Dean's retreating back, flabbergasted by what had just happened. Sure the day hadn’t started great, but it wasn’t supposed to end with him fired! “Fuck, man, what am I gonna do now?” Dennis whined, burying his face into his hands. Mac bumped against him, patting him on the shoulder. “I wasted so much of my life at that stupid, ungrateful school. Goddamn it!”   
  


“Charlie, didn’t you say that bar you work at is up for sale?” Mac leaned over, looking passed Dennis to Charlie who had taken a seat on the other side of the bench, hooking his ankles together in thought.  
  


“Oh yea, Dude,” Charlie nods, “It’s been in decline for months now since that guy got stabbed. The owners are looking to sell right away, dirt cheap too.”   
  


“Oh, I remember that.” Dennis murmured, taking a moment to glance over at Charlie between his fingers.  
  


From her place standing over them, Dee asked “What’s it called?” The three looked up at her dumb question.   
  


“Like you would have been to it,” Dennis sneered, shaking his head at his sister’s idiotic inquiry, “Besides, if we buy it, we can name it whatever the hell we want!”   
  


“We should name it Paddy’s!” Mac exclaimed in excitement, bouncing in place, jostling Dennis, who tried to push some distance between them.  
  


“And how are we even going to get customers?” Dennis shook his head, face pinched. “That bar is shit, no one will step foot in that nasty ass building.” He remarked, remembering how much he wanted to turn tail the moment he had walked in there to find Charlie.  
  


Dee leaned in, “Oh, I know a guy. He’s in my acting class.” Dee helpfully volunteered, feeling proud of herself. “His name’s Terrell.”  
  


The guys looked at each other, coming to the same conclusion. “I guess we’re buying a bar then.” Dennis barked out a laugh looking between the new gang. “Charlie, you get to keep your job then! No worrying about finding a new one, I’ll be your new boss.”   
  


“Sweet, Dude!”   
  


Mac slipped his hand into Dennis’ as the three of them stood up and headed out of the building, a warmth spreading from his chest. It didn’t seem possible but he found a family.   
  


He even gay married Dennis and God had yet to smite him down. It turned out to be a good day after all.   
  


“I love you.”  
  


Dennis smiled at Mac, squeezing his hand as they headed into their new life.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Epilogue

_____________________________

  
  


“-And this Mary here is the Belle of the Ball!”  
  


Dee pinched her face and stared over at Mac who looked like he was about to throw the biggest hissy fit if Dennis didn’t start giving him attention. “Wouldn’t you get to bang that guy if Dennis hooks up with him?”  
  


“No-” Mac dragged out, crossing his arms over his chest, “He’ll just kick me out of our bed and have me watch. The asshole!” Pulling an arm loose, Mac gestured back to Dennis, “We got to put a stop to this, Dee!”

  
  


_____________________________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And even when he has a full-time, respectable job, Dennis still ends up owning a bar in the shady side of Philly with his new found family. 
> 
> The idea that Episode One is basically the same except Dennis and Mac are married sends me. A good chuckle.

**Author's Note:**

> All illustrations are drawn by me, if you would like to hear me yell and stress about the story over on Twitter, my handle is 0hillien. The story's beats have been established but it still needs to be written and drawn out. 
> 
> Art Only - idkmyartwork on social media
> 
> It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia art can be found at pillowfort.social/0hillien tagged IASIP. (NSFW must have an account that's set to view those types of images)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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